


The World Conference (And what transpired)

by Englands_Scones



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blueberries, Drunk England, England's Union Jack Pants, First Time, FrUK, Gladiators, Leaning Tower of Piza, M/M, Rochu, Roman Colosseum, RusAme, Use of ocs, Yaoi, gerita - Freeform, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:04:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Englands_Scones/pseuds/Englands_Scones
Summary: The Countries all get together at Italy's house for one big, happy World Conference.(Some hot FrUK yaoi on chapter 8 and there will be some RusAme Yaoi eventually... that is if I don't accidentally erase it from my phone again.)I also added pictures of Byzantine and Western Empire (If anyone is interested.)I still haven't figured out how to use a scanner, so I took pictures on my phone, sent them to my email, put my art on DeviantArt (English-Scones), and then copy/paste image URL. So... Hectic. *blows raspberry* This is what I get for having the technological knowledge equivalent to a neanderthal.Ack! I also realised that some of the countries are OOC! Oh well, I'm too lazy to change it.





	1. The World Conference

**Author's Note:**

> Yep... I wrote this. This... ungodly work of art... ^.^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Moi: Me
> 
> Ay Caramba: Oh no
> 
> Muy: Very
> 
> Bruder: Brother
> 
> Schwester: Sister
> 
> Ja: Yes
> 
> Nein: No
> 
> Guten morgen: Good morning
> 
> Kon'nichiwa: Hello
> 
> Ruhig sein: Be quiet
> 
> Pudsolnukhi: Sunflowers
> 
> Oui: Yes

It started with a bar. Yeah, not the best place to start a story with but it was a start.

It was the end of another World Conference at Italy's house. After a long conference of getting practically nothing done, England said he wanted to get himself dead-drunk and forget about the whole conference. It was not what one would call a very productive conference in some ways. Even so, some unwanted guests showed up, like Sealand and Prussia. Prussia wasn't a country anymore, yet he showed up to cause mischief. Germany still wonders how his brother, Gilbert, still hasn't faded yet. No one, except possibly the albino, knows the answer.

So, to add a little light on our situation, the day began like this....

It started out as any ordinary conference would. England and France bickering, eventually exchanging many perfectly true and applicable insults to one aother.  
"Hands off _moi_ , Eyebrows!"  
"Shut the bloody hell up, Frog!"  
"Frog, am I? Well, at least zis frog can cook!"  
"What are you suggesting, you wanker?!"  
"Oh, notzing.... Ohonhonhon!"  
"I will pull your whiskers out!"

While those two were on the floor, beating the stuffing out of each other, Greece was asleep, despite the racket. Spain was poking a certain Romano on the head.  
" _Ay Caramba!_ You don't change much, do you, Romano?" Spain said, smiling in his own carefree way. "I remember when you were _muy_ tiny!"  
"S-shut up, stupid bastard!" Romano snapped. The southern part of Italy hid his head in his arms. You could have roasted marshmallows from the heat coming off his face.

Austria and Switzerland sat next to each other, with Liechtenstein between them. The trio just radiated awkwardness, which was only broken by Prussia's presence,  
"'Sup lozers! It's me, yep, Mr Awesome Me. Hey Austria, is zat lace, or cobvebs?" Prussia asked, poking at Austria's sleeve. He turned to Switzerland. "Is zat your _bruder_ or your mini-shadow?" he asked, poking Liechtenstein in the cheek.  
"That's my sister." Switzerland said, his hands clenched tightly into fists.  
Prussia was silent for a moment before he broke out into laughter. "Bahahahaha!!! You look like your _schwester_! You must be really feminine, _ja_?!" the ex-nation said, wiping a tear from his red eyes.  
"Prussia, vhat are you doing?" Germany asked, casting a raised eyebrow at his older brother. "Are you causing trouble?"  
" _Nein_! West! I vos merely making friends! See?" Prussia said, ducking under the table. 

He reappeared by Japan seconds later. " _Guten morgen_ , Japan!" he said, smiling in a way that only meant mischief.  
"Oh... _Kon'nichiwa_ Prussia-San." Japan said awkwardly. "I am a bit busy at moment.... I can talk rater... Unress this is reary important...."  
"It is! Can I have your katana?" Prussia asked.  
"Uh..." Japan choked. He shook his head frantically. "I reary sorry, but no. This is keepsake. Reary important to me..." he said, getting up quickly. He bowed before hastily walking away from the ex-nation.

America sat by Canada, who was holding his polar bear; Mr Kumajirou.  
"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked, looking up at his owner.  
"I'm... Canada..." Canada said, turning slightly transparent. "Your.... owner...."  
"Dudes, I'm bored! When is this World Conference going to start?" America complained loudly. "I'm hungry! Is there a McDonald's here?"

England and France were still fighting, until England kicked the other country between the Versailles. France fell over and rolled around on the floor, swearing in French.  
"That looks painful, da?" Russia said, smiling serenely. He had a sunflower in his hair.

" _Ruhig sein!_ " Germany exclaimed, standing up suddenly. Italy, who was being very grabby towards Germany, fell over in shock. "Everyone zit down! Ve vill begin as soon as everyvone is zeated and quiet! Zat includes you, Prussia!" He said to his brother.  
Prussia smirked and sat down beside Austria. "Conzider it an honour," he said to the musical country, "zat I vould zit by you. You feel honoured to zit by ze awesome me, _ja_?" he asked.  
"Ugh..." Austria groaned, putting his face in his hands.

As soon as everyone was seated, Germany spoke. "I vould like to begin zis month's Vorld Conference. Everyvone zeems to be prezent. England's here.... America's here.... Russia.... China... Prussia.... Italy... Japan... Spain... Romano... Greece. Greece, vake up! Zis is not nap time!" Germany said sternly.  
"But everyday is nap time...." Greece said, lifting his head up sleepily.  
"No it isn't. Uh.. Ve have Canada.... France... Svitzerland.... Austria.... Liechtenstein.... Latvia... Lithuania... Estonia.... Sealand... SEALAND?!! Vhat is he doing here?!" Germany yelled. "Russia! I zought zis vas your job! You did a good job making a blockade in Berlin, but now you can't keep a zittle nation out?!"  
"Vell, I saw these _pudsolnukhi_ and I decided to pick a few..." Russia said, not even flinching. He had a smile on his face. "They are very pretty, da?" he asked, holding up a bouquet of sunflowers, which were wilting and frost-bitten just by being in is hands.

"Ehhh...." England said, his face had a fearful expression. He turned to face Sealand, his thick eyebrows contracting in anger. "Get out, this is a countries only meeting!"  
"But I am a country! Right Japan?" Sealand said.  
England glared daggers at Japan, who looked at the ground. "Er..." he said, turning his gaze away fearfully.

Seychelles was walking leisurely outside the conference room, carrying a basket of hibiscuses when the doors flew open, and out flew Sealand, who landed on the floor with a thud.  
"Ow...." Sealand groaned.  
"Maybe next time, _oui?_ " Seychelles said, patting Sealand on the head. She tucked a flower behind his ear and skipped away, humming to herself.

"So, back to our order of business," England said, wiping the dirt off his hands. The other countries looked at him fearfully, except Russia, whose bouquet was now black and frost-coated.  
Germany was the first one to recover. "So," he cleared his throat, "you all know ze rules. Raise your hand, do not interrupt, ten minutes max, keep hands and feet inzide ze ride at all times... America! Stop mezzing vith ze rules!"  
"Dude! I'm sorry! I just saw the document sitting open on your computer! It's surprising that you didn't notice...." America said, grinning.  
Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something obscene in German, then continued. "So, who is going first?"  
Italy raised his hand. "Oh! Germany! Choose me!"  
Seeing that no one else volunteered, Germany sighed, "Italy?"  
"Pastaaaaaaaaa!!!" Italy exclaimed.  
And thus the meeting began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	2. A Ghost of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England gets drunk, and America thinks he sees a ghost. Is everything as it seems?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of the Bar and Prussia dancing like an idiot was inspired by this video:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08z8VFrM6Ec

Some of the nations went to _Bar Italia_ after the meeting, Romano and Italy sat at the counter waiting for their wine as _We no Speak Americano_ played in the background.  
Further back in the bar, Germany was trying to ignore Prussia's terrible dancing skills after the ex-nation had downed five bottles of brandy and had decided that the bar needed their own dancer. Japan was taking pictures of this rare spectacle. Russia was chugging a bottle of vodka for Spain and China's enjoyment. France was edging towards Canada wiggling his eyebrows seductively and swaying his hips. The North American country hid behind America, who was on his fifth pint of beer and was laughing at Prussia's endeavors. England was on his sixth and was cursing Marquis de Lafayette and all the other problems in his miserable little life.  
"Stupid Lafayette and his little frog army.... Ugh.... Stupid alcohol taxes.... America's always messing things up.... and France... don't get me started on him...." England grumbled. "That ponytail.... More like a donkey tail.... Ugh...."  
"Is he okay?" the bartender said, scratching the stubble on his chin. He had long messy brown hair and a curl on the left side of his head. He faintly reminded America of Italy.  
"Yeah. He's always like this when he's drunk!" America said cheerfully.  
"Don't talk like you're better than me! I saved your life! Without me, you would be France's lackey! But who gets the credit, not me! Stupid, stupid, stupid America! Stupid, stupid! America, you are stupid! Stupid!" England said, putting his head in his arms.  
"Is he crying?" the bartender asked, cocking an eyebrow. He set down Italy and Romano's drinks in front of them, before walking back over to America and the drunk England.  
"Ah... He gets this way..." America said, draining his glass. "You should hear him go on about the war."  
"Which one?" the bartender asked.  
"All of them..." Canada said softly.  
"Ah... well... I have something for that. It will sober him up right." the bartender said, putting some fruit in a blender. He mixed it up and added a shot of espresso to the mix and handed it to England.  
The Englishman took a sip and gave a jolt. "Blimey. Can I get this recipe?" he asked, looking at the odd red smoothie.

After the night was almost over, the countries started to leave to go back to the hotel. America stayed back to help the man clean up and close the bar.  
"That was a nice thing you did for England. He was able to walk back to the hotel." America said.  
" _Non forsit_ , America." the man said, putting the key into the lock.  
"Dude, I never asked your name." America said, as the two walked along a well-lit cobbled street. The dirty-blonde country was heading back to _Hotel Grande_ , the hotel they were staying at in _Plaza Leone_.  
"My name is Western Roman Empire." the man said casually.  
America stopped dead in his tracks. "What?!" he turned around, but the man had disappeared, as if into thin air. "Huh?! Where did he go?!" he exclaimed, looking around. He was along on the street.

America ran to the hotel as fast as his feet could carry him. "England! England!" he cried, jerking open the door to their shared hotel room.  
"What the hell do you want?!" England cried, sitting on his bed drinking a cup of Earl Grey, wearing only his Union Jack-patterned underpants on. "You look like you've seen a bloody ghost!"  
"I think I have! I was just talking to Western Roman Empire!" America said, flopping down on the other bed.  
"Western Rome? Roman Empire's son? He's dead, you couldn't have see-" the Brit began.  
"He looked just like Roman Empire, and Italy and Romano too! Dude, I am not hallucinating! I saw him! I fucking saw him!" America said, cutting him off.  
"Bollocks." England said dismissively. "I think you drank too much ale...." he took a sip of his tea before lowering the cup on its saucer and placing it on the nightstand. "I would have seen him too..." he looked a bit put out.

"But he was the bartender! You must have seen him too!" America said, taking his clothes off. He stripped down to his pants.  
"Alfred Jones, I was trying to get dead drunk, remember? I didn't care what the bloke looked like!" England snapped.  
"Ouch. Are we using human names now, Sir Arthur Kirkland?" America said, moving over to England's bed.  
"Get off! You're stinking up the sheets with your sweat!" England said angrily, trying to push America off.

"Maybe I'll ask Italy and Romano tomorrow morning..." America said, moving over to his own bed.  
"Good idea, now shut the hell up!" England snapped, before rolling over in his own bed. America thought he looked a bit like a burrito.  
There was a pause.  
"Dude?"  
_"What?"_  
"I mean, we could have seen him. Remember seeing Roman Empire singing on the tropical island?" America asked.  
"No more about this. Not until tomorrow morning."  
"Okay. G'night."  
"Good night."

The next morning, England woke up with a terrible headache. The smoothie's effects were apparently only temporary. America seemed to show no symptoms of a hangover at all. _'Stupid yank'_ England thought, taking two pills before he got up and took a shower. After he was done, he walked out of the bathroom to see America playing Minecraft on his laptop.

"What world is that?" England asked, looked at the screen on the computer. America was busy placing a mountain of TNT on what looked to be Parliament.  
"It's your private server." America said casually, using a lever to detonate the explosives.  
"WHAT??!!!" England exclaimed, taking the computer from him. He poured water all over the TNT, but to no avail. Parliament blew up, and with it went the Big Ben, the London Eye, and part of the River Thames.  
"Well, dude, at least you can say this is Modern London, after aliens bomb it." America said, shrugging.  
"AMERICA!!!!" 

In the room next door, Russia was sharing a room with China. The two were getting ready for the free day of the World Conference. Pretty much, you get to see the sights. It was a day of rest and relaxation.  
" _Ai yah!_ It sounds like a bunch of squeaky girls next door." China said.  
"Squeaky girls? Sound more like America and England, da?" Russia said, putting his coat on. "Or maybe Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia. I hear they share room."  
"That would make sense, _aru_." China said, putting his hair in a ponytail.  
"Vell, they make noise like a live baby deer getting slowly torn apart by a pair of hungry wolf." Russia said, smiling. He wrapped his white scarf around his neck.  
China shuddered. "That sounds terrible!"  
"So do they..."

Romano and Italy came out of their room, yawning. They had a good night sleeping overall, except for that time when they heard someone running down the hall, screaming 'England! England!' like a banshee. It had woke them up, and Romano had no doubt that the culprit was America. The two were wearing matching white t-shirts with the Roman Colosseum on them and blue jeans. The only difference was their trainer colour. They both wore plimsoles, but Romano's were beige, and Italy's were blue.  
" _Ve_ , I hope they have pasta for breakfast!" Italy said happily.  
"I personally hope they have frittata." Romano said. "And when do they ever serve pasta for breakfast?"

A door opened as they walked by, revealing a very cheerful Spain, who walked out into the hall, dragging a sleepy Greece by the foot. Greece had his cat-ear headband on. It was a gift from Japan.  
"No... I will not get up.... Cats need lots of sleep...." Greece mumbled.  
"Oh! Hello Romano, Italy, how are you?" Spain asked, smiling.  
" _Ve?_ I'm doing good. I hope they have pasta for breakfast." Italy said.  
"I'm okay." Romano said cooly.  
" _Muy Bien!_ I would go with you, but I think I will take the stairs down instead. There is a certain _gato_ that needs waking up." he said, poking Greece with his finger.  
Greece swatted it away. "Mew..."  
"Well, _adios_ then!" Spain said, dragging Greece down the hall.  
Italy waved goodbye and the two brothers walked into the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Western Roman Empire (I drew it myself):  
> 


	3. The Great Pancake Gobbler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prussia plays with his food, Austria passes the butter, and Canada shows his dark side.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Dummkopf: Idiot
> 
> Colazione libera: Free breakfast
> 
> Scheisse: Shit
> 
> Danke: Thanks
> 
> Un petit-déjeuner pour un roi!: A breakfast for a king!
> 
> Ameerika: America

Downstairs, Prussia was messing around with the bacon.  
"Just eat your food! _Mien Gott!_ " Germany groaned. "I svear, I am more mature zan you!"  
"But look! I made ze pancake look like you friend, vat's his face!" Prussia said.  
"Zat does not look like Italy in ze slightest! Vot vere you zinking?!" Germany said heatedly.  
"No, see? Right zere is his eyes, and zere is his curl. And his hair... and his-"  
" _Ja!_ I get it! But vhy must you fool around vith your food? You'll make a bigger mess zan you did in our room! Vhy must you fool around vith your food?"  
"Vell, I ran out of fresh material. You can only make so many variants of an ice cream peni-"  
"Germany! They have pasta for breakfast here!" Italy said, spinning around with a plate of spaghetti over his head as he danced around in circles.  
"Vhy did you sleep in ze hotel vhen you could sleep in your own comfortable bed?" Germany asked, trying to ignore Italy's adorable spinning.  
"Duh, _dummkopf! _" Prussia said, rolling his red eyes. "Isn't it obvious? Free breakfast!"  
"Free breakfast..." Italy said dreamily. _"Colazione libera..."___

___Near the coffee station, Switzerland was getting something to drink. He poured himself a cup of black coffee and took one of those tiny little straws to put in his drink. He went over to the mini-fridge on the counter and got Liechtenstein a bottle of orange juice and a piece of toast from the bread box. The two sat at a table, which just so happened to be occupied by Austria._  
However, Austria was ignoring them, being deeply engrossed by a book titled _Mein Kampf_. He frowned and shook his head at the ideas in the book. "Vhat a load of _scheisse._ I can't believe I used to find zis book inspiring." Austria grumbled to himself. He set the book face-down on the table, not even wanting to look at the man on the front cover, and took a sip of his coffee. That's when he noticed Switzerland sitting there with Liechtenstein. He lowered the cup slowly and set it down on the table. "I am sorry, I did not see you zere." he said curtly. "Do you need somezing?"  
"Could you pass the butter?" Liechtenstein asked quietly. Switzerland seemed to be engrossed with the television, which was playing re-runs of _Teletubbies_.  
"Of course." Austria said, pushing the butter platter closer to her with one finger. He didn't make eye contact, or even look in Switzerland's direction.  
_"Danke."_ Liechtenstein said softly.  
"No problem." Austria said. 

___"I can't wait for what we're going to do today. It will probably be fun, right, Mr Kilimanjaro?" Canada said, taking a sip from his glass of milk._  
"Who are you?" the white bear asked.  
"I'm Canada...."  
"Hey! Canada! Dude! I found the pancakes!" America said, trying to get the other nation's attention.  
"Pancakes?" Canada said, his eyes sparkling.  
"Canada-sama reary rikes pancakes. He has big tower." Japan observed, nibbling on a bit of toast.  
'Canada really likes pancakes' was a bit of an understatement, but then again, Japan was a very modest country. If England had anything to say about it; Canada had a predilection for them. Canada came back with a large tower of at least fifteen pancakes, each being the size of a dinner plate. Mr Kumajirou was carrying a additional five.  
"Dude! Look at all those pancakes!" America exclaimed as Canada set them gently on the table.  
_"Un petit-déjeuner pour un roi!"_ France exclaimed, sparkles in his eyes.  
Canada licked his lips and took a small bottle of brown liquid out of his hoodie pocket. He unscrewed the top and poured the contents onto the stack. "Mmm.... Maple." he said softly. He poured a bit on top of Mr Kumajirou's stack too. 

___"Is he able even able to eat all those?" Latvia asked._  
"He's related to _Ameerika_ , so I do believe it is possible." Estonia said.  
"I wish Belarus was here. I think she'd like the frittata." Lithuania sighed.  
The Three Baltic States looked on, frightened, as Canada aggressively devoured the mountain of pancakes. Mr Kumajirou looked positively rabid. 

___"Awaaaa! Look at Canada go!" China said. "He look like he could kill for more maple syrup, aru! Such power! I'd hate to be those pancakes!"_  
"Hmm..." Russia said smiling. The metal spoon in his hand bend and fell to the floor with a clatter.  
_'Damn. It looks like Russia is jealous.'_ the patriotic country thought, staring at the twisted spoon on the floor. "So...." he said, clearing his throat. "Canada.... Did you like the pancakes?"  
Canada looked up, a fierce hunger burning in his eyes. "Yes! They're very good, eh?"  
"Yeah, but dude, we need to get on with today's activities. Germany has written out a schedule, if I'm not mistaken." he said, pulling out a sheet of greasy, crumpled-up paper from his back pocket. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	4. Assignments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone is happy with Germany's pairings. (Germany ships FrUK HARD) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> When America says 'Sucks to suck', it was a popular quote from an inspiring woman I knew. (salutes) I will always remember you, Captain of the Humpty-Dumpty Squad!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Sot: Idiot
> 
> Moi aussi: Me too
> 
> Arsch: Ass
> 
> Scheiss: Shit

After breakfast was over, the countries all gathered in the conference room, where America assigned them into teams (through Germany's instructions).  
"Okay, so dudes, Germany is going to hang with Italy. France, you're going to be with England."  
"WHAT??!! I am NOT going to spend the whole day with that bloody wanker!" England said, slamming his hand on the table.  
"I refuse!" France said. "I am not teaming up with zis _sot_!!!"  
"Well, it's either hang out and have fun, or play Operation with each other for the rest of the day." America said, consulting the paper that smelled faintly of burgers.  
"I'll take Operation!" England said quickly.  
_"Moi aussi!"_ France exclaimed.

"Okay! Two are staying back. So, Russia, you're going to be with me and Canada. Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, you're going to hang with each other for the rest of the day. Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Austria you're a group-"  
"What?! I am not being in a group with this - this _arsch_!" Switzerland choked out.  
"Vell, I don't vant to be vith zis load of _scheiss_ eizer!" Austria exclaimed.  
"To bad! Germany put you together for a reason. Sucks to suck!" America said. "So, Greece, you're with China and Japan. Wait, where's Greece?" the heroic nation asked, looking up from his crinkled list.  
"I'm here." a faint voice said from under the table. "I don't want to move.... I was dragged down five floors worth of carpet-covered stairs. It hurts to move...Mew."

"Okay! Greece is staying back too then. Spain, Romano, and Prussia are a group, and I think that's it!"  
"Why am I in a group with the Potato-Bastard's brother?" Romano asked, looking bored.  
"Because that's what it says on the list, whiney-hienie. Now break and let the fun begin!" America said happily. He pushed Russia and Canada out the doors eagerly. "C'mon dudes, we're going ghost-hunting! Like Ghostbusters, ya know?"  
"Don't touch me, or I'll kill everyone you love." Russia said, smiling cheerfully.  
"C'mon dude! Relax!" America said, putting his arm around Russia's shoulder.  
A dark shadow crossed over Russia's smiling face.


	5. America, Russia, and Canada: Ghostbusters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America goes back to Bar Italia with Russia and Canada.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Moskva: Moscow
> 
> Zad: Backside
> 
> Spirans: Living
> 
> Amerika: America
> 
> Uotergeytskiy Skandal: Watergate Scandal
> 
> Punchus grammen: Go punch the ground
> 
> Volk: Wolf
> 
> Avos Roma: Grandfather Rome

"Vhy are ve ghost-hunting?" Russia asked, smiling as America pushed him out the door. "Sound fun, but I vould like to know vhy..."  
America stopped and turned to face them. His face was set, and he looked dead serious. "Okay, I'll tell you. Don't laugh, okay? Last night, were were at Bar Italia. You know the bartender? Tall guy, bit of stubble?"  
Canada nodded his head slowly. "Yes... I remember him. He was good at mixing cocktails. His smoothies were good too, eh? Even Mr Kumbafuji like them. Why are-?"  
"I have reason to believe that he's a ghost!" America blurted out.  
Canada's jaw dropped and Russia's expression hadn't changed the slightest.  
"Y-you must be confused, America. Ghosts can't hold bottles of beer, or mix drinks..." Canada said softly.  
"Vell, there vos this ghost in _Moskva_ that mix really good drink." Russia said thoughtfully. "I vos dead drunk for whole veek." A shadow passed over his face.  
"Gah! G-ghosts aren't real! You all must be joking, eh?" Canada said, turning slightly transparent as he did when he was nervous.  
"I asked him his name as I was helping him close up, and do you know what his name was? Western Roman Empire, dudes! You know how Roman Empire was split in half upon his death? His two sons, Byzantine and Western Rome took his land and forged two smaller empires! Western Empire was Italy and Romano's dad, supposedly, until he disappeared. I think he's come back to haunt us!" America said.

"I am related to Byzantine Empire... That mean I'm related to Italy and Romano, da?" Russia said thoughtfully.  
"Well... I never thought about it that way..." America said. "But I suppose, technically yes."  
"B-but ghosts aren't real.... I think you should b-both stop watching horror movies...." Canada said, shaking like a maple leaf.  
"Anyways, dudes, I want to check out that bar we went to. Maybe we'll see that ghost again." America said enthusiastically.  
"Maybe _you'll_ see that ghost again, you mean." Canada corrected.  
"Yeah, whatever." America said.

The trio walked to the bar, which was a little ways from there. To their surprise, however, the bar had vanished. It its place was a run down building covered in dust, grime, and cobwebs.  
"It doesn't look like it's been entered in years." Canada said quietly. He ran a finger along the window sill and rubbed the dust between two fingers. "Hmm... this dust is very old.... B-but that's impossible, unless it really w-was a g-g-ghost...."  
"Okay! So! We need to break in to find more clues! Have you got your pickaxe, Russia?" America asked.  
"Pickaxe is alvays ready for demolition!" Russia said smiling. "Just tell vhen and vhere, da?"  
"Okay! Right there!" America said, pointing at the rusted padlock on the door handle.  
Russia raised the pickaxe over his head and brought it down with all the strength he could muster. The lock was shattered into small bits and the door opened slowly by itself.  
"Mr Kumbaijiro.... I am not liking this at all..." Canada said, burying his face in the bear's white fur.  
"Who are you?" Mr Kumajirou asked, looking up.  
"I am Canada..." Canada said, softly.

America was the first to enter the old building (because he was the hero), his flashlight out in front of him. Behind his was Russia, who didn't seem the slightest bit afraid of anything. Cowering behind Russia's tall figure was Canada, who was almost choking poor Mr Kumajirou to death.  
The first room had a slight decaying smell to it, mixed with the smell of old flowers, hyacinths perhaps. The room's walls were made of ancient marble, and the only other way out was down a long staircase that led deeper into the earth.  
"Dudes! This is awesome! Do you think Italy knows about this place? It reminds me of a level on one of my video games I had. Now if only there were zombies..." America said loudly, shining his flashlight at a cobwebbed covered clay urn.  
Canada shook his head frantically. "No! No zombies!" he screamed, but it came out as a whisper.  
"Hmm..." Russia said happily. He seemed to be enjoying this, but you could never be sure with Russia. "Anything else you vant me to break?" he asked, his pickaxe on his shoulder.  
"Nah, not at the moment." America said. He headed towards the stairs. "Woah! Dude! This goes further down!" he said.  
He got down to the bottom of the marble staircase, his path barred by a pair of intricately carved white marble doors with gold leaf. He touched the left door and it immediately began to glow a bright blue, before fading into nothing. "Awesome! It's just like magic!"

"I don't think we should go any further..." Canada whimpered.  
"Don't be stupid. I want to see how far this goes." America said, walking into the dark room. His pocket flashlight went out suddenly.  
"Oh my God! I can't see!" Canada cried.  
"Dude! Calm down! It happens sometimes! Just wait a minute!" America snapped.  
"Who am I touching...?" Canada whimpered.  
"I think you are touching my _zad_." Russia's voice said.  
"S-sorry...."  
"And bingo!" America said triumphantly. The flashlight came back on, revealing two marble tables on which lay two-  
"Bodies! There are dead bodies in here!" Canada squeaked.  
It was true. There were two bodies of long deceased men. They both had some resemblance to each other. They had long brown hair and stubble on their chins. They had youthful looks about them, but their faces showed knowledge and wisdom. Despite the fact that they must have been dead for at least over a millennium, they still looked like they were merely sleeping, not dead.

"Those aren't just any bodies. I think that might be Roman Empire and Western Roman Empire...." America said softly. "Wait! Russia! What are you doing?!"  
Russia was poking Roman Empire in the face. "Hehehe.... It fun. Look. I am poking the greatest nation that ever has existed on earth in the face."  
"Ehh..." America didn't know what to say to that, FOR THE FIRST FUCKING TIME!!! WE'RE MAKING HISTORY, FOLKS!!!  
"H-have some respect Russia..." Canada said. "Roman Empire was a powerful nation, but he was also very kind. It wouldn't be right to disrespect him.... even in death.... Maple."  
"He has a point." a voice said behind them. Two men stood by each other, looking happy and carefree. They looked exactly like the bodies of the two deceased, except that they were slightly transparent. The only difference was that they produced their own light.

"Roman Empire?" America asked.  
"Yes, it is I. Say, do you have any food? Even though I'm a ghost, I still miss the luxury of food. I can eat, not that it will do any good, but..." the taller Roman shrugged.  
"Of course, you visit the world of the _spirans_ and the first thing you do is ask for food." the other Roman said. He was more serious and had a sort of depressed look about him. This must be Western Roman Empire. He looked almost the same, and people used to say that he was the reincarnation of Roman Empire. "Hello again, America." he said, waving at the patriotic nation. "I do thank you for helping me clean up the bar. I am forever grateful."  
" _Amerika_ tells the truth now, da?" Russia asked.  
"Dude, _Amerika_ always tells the truth." America snapped.  
"Weight loss pills?" Canada suggested.  
"America almost always tells the truth." America said, correcting himself.  
"The _Uotergeytskiy skandal?_ " Russia asked.  
"Shut up! That wasn't even my fault! Blame Nixon!" America exclaimed.

"So, it seems that England didn't believe you when you told him about me. You wouldn't have gone this far to prove it if he had." Western Rome said, frowning as Roman Empire downed the whole bottle of maple syrup that Canada had offered him. "There's a first time for everything."  
"Yeah. It surprised me too. He's so superstitious, playing with his little fairy-friends." America said awkwardly.  
"Well, when you see him, tell him I told you to tell him to _punchus grammen_." Western Rome said.  
"Vhat _punchus grammen?_ " Russia asked, smiling slightly.  
"'Go punch the ground in my native language, Latin. I know that countries generally understand some of each other's languages, but as my language is a dead language... you'll only get bits and pieces." the younger Rome said. He sighed. "I know I didn't live very long, but tell my sons I love them both. Feli and Lovi are doing good?"  
"Italy tail Germany like a baby _volk_ to it's mother. Romano say more svear vord than General Vinter." Russia said.  
"So, they haven't changed much since _Avos Roma_ saw them last?" Western Roman Empire asked.  
America was taken aback. Italy never mentioned any visit from his grandfather. "No... I suppose not."


	6. Germany and Italy: Pitchforks and Loincloths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Germany and Italy fight it out at the Roman Colosseum.
> 
> Also, the fucked up driving was inspired somewhat by the Hetalia: World Stars manga chapter 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> Colosseo Romano: Roman Colosseum
> 
> Ancora: More
> 
> Si: Yes
> 
> Ja: Yes
> 
> Bruder: Brother
> 
> Brennend: Burning
> 
> Caesar: Emperor
> 
> Mein Gott: My God

Italy watched as America read off the list the groups that they were going to be in for their free day.  
"Okay, so dudes, Germany is going to hang with Italy. France, you're going to be with England." America said, reading off the bit of burger-scented paper.  
Italy didn't pay attention to anything else, except for the fact that he and Germany were going to be together. He felt protected by the thought that Germany had chosen him to be his partner. Germany really cared. Italy felt his insides turn to mush and a warm fuzzy feeling overtake him. It was the feeling he got whenever he ate pasta or played with his kitten. He was going to make it up to Germany! He was going to show him the best places in his house! As he slipped into his planning/daydream mode, he lost concentration on everything around him. He was in the middle of planning a trip to the Roman Colosseum when he felt his shoulder being tapped on.  
"Uh... Italy. Ze meeting's over." Germany said awkwardly.  
" _Ve?_ It is? I wasn't paying attention, sorry." Italy said, jumping out of his chair. He circled around Germany like a baby bird. "I was thinking about where we should go first! I was thinking the _Colosseo Romano!_ We can dress up as gladiators, and eat pasta, and play fight with wooden swords, and eat pasta, and we can wear armour, and eat pasta, and hold hands, and eat pasta, and spend time together, and eat _ancora_ pasta!"  
"Zat sounds alright..." Germany said, not really paying attention. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He just wanted to get away from the World Conference for awhile and relax. Anything sounded better than being cooped up with the other nations, except maybe refereeing France and England's Operation game.

Germany nearly crashed the car twice due to the messed up roads. Apparently, Italy said that there was a third lane which could be driven on. The third lane just happened to be the footpath for pedestrians. However, Italy claimed that they were just expert jaywalkers and that he could drive on the hypothetical 'third lane.' Germany turned this down and tried to use a Global Positioning System (GPS) to find his way to the Colosseum, which sent them driving off a cliff, through a nude beach, on the top of the terracotta roofs of some Italian Villas, and into a row of porta-potties.

Finally, they arrived at the Colosseum, Italy offering over and over to replace Germany's ruined Audi with a Fiat. Germany kept declining and got out of the car, shading his eyes from the sunny light of Italy's sun. The Colosseum truly was terrific. Germany wondered if, in a thousand years, some of his own landmarks would still be standing. Would people flock his home to visit them, even more so than before? His deep German brooding was interrupted by Italy dragging him towards the Colosseum.  
"Romano promised to meet us here! We're going to have a gladiator battle!" Italy said, wheezing from the effort to pull Germany by the arm. "Look! There he is! _Ciao_ Romano! And Prussia and Spain are with him too! Look Germany!" "I see, I see." Germany said exasperatedly. He walked towards the Colosseum entrance, the warm sun beating down on his shoulders. He would most likely get a tan from his time at Italy's house.

"We have a big box full of equipment! Old armour and stuff like that..." Italy said, gesturing at an old wooden crate that Romano was pushing towards them. "We're using wooden weapons only, because we don't want anyone dying! Right, Germany?" he asked happily.  
Prussia looked put out by this. "Fine, but I'm Emperor. I get to do ze zumbs up or zumbs down zing." he said.  
Germany knew that the answer would always be thumbs down when Prussia was Caesar.  
"Okay! So the rest of us are gladiators, _si?_ " Spain asked, picking up a wooden cutlass.  
" _Ja!_ Prepare to meet your doom, lozers!" Prussia said, a dark shadow crossing over his face.  
"Vhat are you talking about?" Germany asked, putting some armour on. He picked up a gladius. "You aren't even going to fight."  
"Oh.... _ja._ "

"Zis battle is betveen my annoying little _bruder_ Germany, and ze vimpy nation Italy!" Prussia said, a bruise forming over his left eye. There was jeering from the crowd that had gathered to watch. "By ze vay, zis toga is a pretty bad- _arsch_ purple. But zese golden laurels are uncomfortable. Let us see our champions!"  
Germany walked out onto the field, glad that his face was hidden by the large helmet. However, it felt like an oven in there. He had blushed nervously when Romano had said that in order to make it look genuine, he would have to wear no shirt and a loincloth.  
 _"Don't worry Germany,"_ Italy had said. _"I'll wear one too!"_  
This, however, did not make him feel any better. He held a shield in his left hand. In his write, he held a wooden gladius painted over to look like a real one. It also had weights in it so it felt like one too. His vision was slightly obscured by the helmet, making it hard to see. He was also weighed down by all the armour he was wearing, but he had been in heavier and more uncomfortable situations, after all, he was Germany!

Italy frolicked onto the field, wearing only a loincloth and a metal sleeve that served as protection on his non-sword arm, which was his right. In his right hand, he held a weighted net, and in his left he held he held a trident. The tips, which were rather sharp, were tipped with little squeaky rubber ducks. The point being that if he made contact, they would know.  
"Hello Germany!" he said cheerfully. "Are you having fun?"  
"Zis armour is _brennend_..." Germany said, his voice slightly muffled by the helmet. "I vant to get out of zis as soon as possible..."  
"And battle begin!" Prussia said gleefully.  
Germany ran at Italy, his movement slowed down slightly by the weight of the armour. As soon as Italy saw him, the carefree country ran towards him and jumped over Germany, using the stronger nation's helmet as a way to project himself further into the air. He threw the net, covering Germany, and threw his trident at him. The ducks squeaked in victory.  
The crowd cheered as Italy kicked Germany's sword out of the blonde's hand and took it, pointing it at Caesar Prussia.  
Caesar Prussia looked around. "Vell, vhat should he do?" he asked the crowd.   
The crowd made mostly thumbs-up gestures.  
"Too bad, zucks for you." Prussia said to the crowd. "Zumbs down." he said, pointing his thumb down at the table.  
Italy gently poked Germany in the chest with the tip of the gladius.

The crowd erupted in applause as Italy helped the stronger country up. Germany took the sweltering toaster off his head. "A battle vell fought. I didn't know you vere capable of such agility and skill." Germany said, kissing Italy's cheek. "Tell me, vhy don't you fight like zis instead of vaving zat stupid vhite flag around?"  
"I-I don't usually fight like this, because.... I can't.... but I felt Grandpa Rome's fighting spirit flow through me as soon as I stepped out into the arena. I felt power and strength, just like he had long ago..." Italy said, "And when I saw my people cheering me on... I knew I couldn't lose."  
 _'Of course....'_ Germany thought. _'It had to be temporary. So if I ever vant him to win a battle, I need a Roman Colosseum and a crowd of cheering Italians.'_ He pinched the bridge of his nose. _'Mein Gott...'_  
"So... Now it is Spain and Romano's turn, right? Right Germany?" Italy pestered, poking the blonde in the arm.  
 _"Ja, ja."_ Germany said. "Zen ve'll get some pasta. My treat."  
"Oh! _Gratzie_ Germany! _Gratzie!_ " Italy said, bouncing around Germany's heels like an excited puppy. "Pastaaaaa...."


	7. Spain, Prussia, and Romano (Though Mostly Spain and Romano): Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romano and Spain's battle. 
> 
> My dad sometimes drives with his knees. It really scares the hell out of me when he does that.
> 
> How to Practice Math When You're Driving: Add twenty to every speed limit! You'll be a pro in no time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Si: Yes
> 
> Schiess: Shit
> 
> Ay caramba: Oh no
> 
> Bruder: Brother
> 
> Amigos: Friends
> 
> Arsch: Ass
> 
> Salid del lodo ahora: Come out of the mud now
> 
> Ciao: Hello
> 
> Polen: Poland
> 
> Preußen: Prussia
> 
> Österreich: Austria
> 
> Wird für das Essen: Will for the Food
> 
> Famiglia: Family
> 
> Muy bien: Good Job

After America said that they were teaming up, Prussia strutted over to Spain and Romano proudly.  
"Be zankful zat you teaming up vith ze great and awezome me." he said, doing a weird silver-haired hair flip.  
"Ehhh.... _si?_ " Spain said uncertainly.  
"Why would we want to be with you, you arrogant bastard?" Romano spat, clinging to Spain for protection. Some things never change.  
"Don't listen to him. His head's full of _schiess_ and he's just confused. I blame ze tomatoes." Prussia said haughtily. "Vell, come on, I say ve go to ze Roman Colozeum. I'll drive!"  
"Ugh... _Ay caramba..._ " Spain sighed, dragging Romano along with him.  
It turns out the only mode of transport Prussia was familiar with was a horse. Romano volunteered to drive.  
However, as the others soon learned, Romano texted while driving and drove using only his knees. He also barely looked up to see where he was going, and drove twenty kilometres over every speed limit.

After one terrifying car ride later, they arrived. Prussia and Spain jumped out of the car, their faces white with horror. They kissed the ground.  
"So, we're going to meet up with my baby brother." Romano said casually, like they hadn't just run every red light and had a mad car chase with the law (which totally happened). Somehow, possibly by a miracle, his car didn't have a single scratch. "I texted him on the way here." he looked back to see Spain kissing the ground... and Prussia eating it. "Why aren't you paying attention, you stupid bastards?!"

"Oh... I'm sorry, it's just zat..... YOU DRIVE LIKE A MANIAC!!!!" Prussia yelled, wiping a bit of dirt from his mouth.  
"I drive like a maniac?! Dammit! Says the man who can't even DRIVE!!!" Romano retorted angrily.  
"I've met stubborn mules vith better perzonalities!" Prussia spat.  
"Says the nation that's supposed to be DEAD!!! Talk about a stubborn bastard!"  
"Uh... Romano... Prussia... Germany and Italy are here..." Spain said awkwardly.  
"At least I didn't have to share my country vith my little _bruder!_ " Prussia said.  
"HAHAHAH!!! YEAH!" Romano said, laughing like a maniac that is being tickled by an electric chainsaw. "You LOST yours to your little brother and POLAND! Pony-loving Poland!"  
"Uh... _Amigos?_ Germany and Italy are-"  
"SHUT UP, _Arsch_ -face!" Prussia said to Romano.  
"You shut your crap-eating face, zombie-bastard!"  
"Well-"  
"GUYS! GERMANY AND ITALY ARE COMING! SALID DEL LODO AHORA!" Spain yelled.  
Romano choked. He'd never really seen the angry side of Spain. and personally he thought it was more frightening than Canada's pancake frenzy.

Prussia and Romano got out of the dirt and dusted themselves off just in time to see Italy struggling to Germany in their direction. "Look! There he is! _Ciao_ Romano! And Prussia and Spain are with him too! Look Germany!" he said happily.  
"I see, I see." Germany said. He looked very tired.  
Romano tried to stifle his laughter. It looked like Italy tried to give the potato-bastard driving directions. What a loser. He went off to get the crate of old armour, a his brother said they were going to have an old-fashioned gladiator battle.

Spain looked around at the view. It was a really nice place, even in its ruin. He tried to imagine what the Colosseum looked like back in its heyday. He had been born a few hundred years later, so he'd never had the chance. He had heard stories though. Greece had told him stories, but he said his words never even got close to describing its majesty. He would go into detail about some particularly gruesome matches though, until Spain realised that he was simply describing scenes from _Gladiator_ starring Russell Crowe. Spain shuddered at the thought that many people had died on the ground that he was standing on.  
"We have a big box full of equipment! Old armour and stuff like that...." Italy was saying, gesturing to an old wooden crate that Romano was pushing towards them.  
_'Stupid baby brother....'_ Romano thought. This was just the anger though. He loved his little brother very much, but Prussia's comment on sharing made him a bit bitter, though not to the point of waging a civil war.

"We're using wooden swords only, because we don't want anyone dying! Right, Germany?" Italy asked happily, tugging on Germany's sleeve.  
Prussia looked put out by this. He wanted to see blood. But you can't have everything in life..... like your own country for example. He was still angry about Romano's comment about losing his land to stupid _Polen_ and his little _bruder_. "Fine, but I'm Emperor. I get to do ze zumbs up or zumbs down zing." he said. If Germany lost, he would definitely do thumbs down. But then again, he would do the same with Italy, so no surprises there.  
Germany had a feeling that something was troubling Prussia, which meant thumbs down to everything.  
_'Preußen, vould you like some schnitzel?'_ Thumbs down. _'Preußen, could you move over, you're hogging ze couch.'_ Thumbs down. _'Vas Österreich being annoying?'_ Thumbs down. _'Preußen, I lost ze directions to ze fridge, do you know vhere ze are?'_ Thumbs down. Always with the thumbs down. If Germany won, he would have to pretend-kill Italy.... In his own house. He couldn't do that. Maybe if he'd just yield.  
"Okay! So the rest of us are gladiators, _si?_ " Spain asked, disrupting Germany's thoughts. He picked up some of the swords and swung them, testing their weight.  
" _Ja!_ Prepare to meet your doom, inzignificant lozers!" Prussia said, and evil shadow, that looked strangely like Calamity Ganon, crossing over his face. He picked up a golden laurel and a purple toga and put them on. His _'Wird für das Essen'_ shirt still visible underneath.  
"Vhat are you talking about?" Germany asked, frowning. He put on a brass helmet. "You aren't even going to fight."  
"Oh.... _Ja._ " Prussia said, looking slightly put-out.  
Suddenly, he got hit in the eye with the end of the trident that Spain was swinging around. "Ouch! _Mein Gott!_ My eye!" he said, holding a hand to the left side of his face.  
"Oh! Sorry _hombre!_ " Spain said, putting the trident down. "It was an accident. It's just.... I looked so _caliente_ while swinging it around..."  
"Ugh! If you lose, you're definitely getting a zumbs down!" Prussia said through gritted teeth.

Prussia sat up on the podium, annoying the crap out of all the tourists and Italians, by making negative comments on the scenery and stuff while Spain and Romano were getting ready. Spain took off his white _'Why don't you shut up? - King'_ shirt, revealing a bunch of old scars. He was once the most powerful nation in Europe, but it did not come without a price. Romano's eyes widened.  
"Did that hurt?" he blurted out.  
Spain looked up. "What to you mean, _Amigo?_ "  
"All those... scars. Did they hurt." Romano asked, looking down at the ground. He took off his shirt, revealing soft, tanned unblemished skin. "I've never gotten a scar, so I wouldn't know. Grandpa Rome had a lot of them.... but he never talked about it."  
Spain walked over to him and put his hand on Romano's shoulder. "All of them hurt, but do not tell anyone. I lost many battles, both on land and sea. One time, my Spanish Armada was sunk by England's ships and a bunch of storms. It was mostly the storms, but England would say otherwise, and it didn't help that France flew in and hit me on the head. I had a large scar on my back from it. I lost many people that day. Many good men. It's just part of being a country. Even America has a scar. He cried for a very long time, even though he just cut his foot on a rock at Vietnam's house. We still won't let him live it over." Spain laughed.  
"R-really? Just part of being a country..." Romano said uneasily, but a look of determination quickly replaced his uncertainty. "Well, then it is my duty as a country to stop you from kicking my ass in front of my _famiglia_ , the potato-bastard, and the zombie-bastard!" he said.

" _Muy bien._ Good job, Romano." Spain said, kissing him on the cheek.  
Romano blushed, then his Spain over the head with his hand. "Stop that! We've still got to fight each other, and people are waiting for us to get ready!"  
There was a squeaking noise outside.  
"Dammit! I don't have my loincloth on yet!" Romano said, putting the metal sleeve on.  
"Here." Spain said, throwing a white cloth at Romano. It hit him in the face.  
"What was that for?!"  
"Loincloth." Spain said, shrugging.

Finally, the two walked out into the arena, fully dressed and armed.  
"Vell, about time!" Prussia said, leaning on a reclining couch in a bored manner. Where he got it, Spain didn't know. "I zought you two vere making out in zere, you vere taking so long. Get your _Arsch_ over here!"  
"Uh... might I ask why?" Romano asked, only to be hit in the face with a tomato.  
"Zat's vhat you get for calling me a zombie-bastard!" Prussia said. "Now, battle begin!"

The two gladiators turned on each other, Spain being quicker despite his armour. He cut Romano on the arm, drawing blood.  
"Wait! I thought this was supposed to be dull!" Spain exclaimed, staring at the sword in horror. "I don't think this is even wood!"  
"Keep going." Romano hissed, straightening up. He threw the net at Spain, but missed. Spain rushed at him, swinging his sword halfheartedly. Romano dove through his legs and picked up the fallen net, throwing it again at Spain.  
Spain was ensnared by the net, trying to cut himself free with from the rope. Romano walked over to Spain and put his sandalled foot on Spain's chest. He glared up at Prussia.  
"Eh.... I have a promize to keep. Zumbs down." Prussia said, making the correct gesture.  
Romano tapped Spain with his trident and helped the nation up. Spain took of his metal helmet, glad to be able to breathe fresh air again.

"Romano... I am so sorry for the sword. I swear I didn't know that it was real! Someone must have-"  
Romano cut him off and kissed the other country... ON THE FUCKING LIPS!!! SPAMANO HELL YEAH!!!  
"I'm sorry..." Romano said quickly. "I didn't mean to.... It's just that..."  
_"Cállate!"_ Spain said happily, and the two embraced. He looked down. "About your arm..."  
"Huh? Oh yeah. I swear to God that the zombie-bastard did it." Romano said, looking down at his arm. The cut had healed over, leaving a small scar. "Heh... Look. My first scar."  
"And a very masculine one at that." Spain said, smiling. "Well, let's get this armour off and then get pizza." he said, his hand intertwined with Romano's.  
They headed back into the changing room, but Romano looked back just long enough to flip Prussia off with his free middle finger. "Yeah, pizza sounds nice." the Italian said.


	8. France and England: A Botched Up Game of Operation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yep! It's out! Finally! Here be some hot yaoi for you thirsty fangirls (and fanboys).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Moi: Me
> 
> Non: No
> 
> Mon amour: My love
> 
> Magnifique: Magnificent

"Okay, so dudes, Germany is going to hang with Italy. France, you're going to be with England." America said, looking at the list.  
"What?!!! I am NOT going to spend the whole day with that bloody wanker!" England said, slamming his hand on the table. He still had a headache from last night and didn't need that frog to make it a migraine. France looked just as livid.  
"I refuse!" France said, pursing his pink lips.  
"Well, it's either hang out, or play Operation with each other for the rest of the day." America said, looking at the greasy paper.  
"I'll take Operation!" England said, standing up quickly.  
"Me too!" France exclaimed.  
"Okay.... Two are staying back. So, Russia, you're going to be with me and Canada. Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, you're going to hang with each other for the rest of the day. Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Austria, you're a group-"

After every team was listed, the meeting broke up. It seemed that Greece would stay back too, as he was in pain from being dragged down multiple flights of carpet-covered stairs by an enthusiastic Spain.  
With him dosing on the floor, France walked over to an ornate wooden cabinet and pulled out the box with the game in it. He set it on the conference table and took everything out.

"So, how do you play zis game?" France asked.  
"You start by - ugh! I can't explain it. Just read the bloody instructions, Frog." England sighed, his face in his hands. He really did not need any crap from France today. "You're such and idiot. You agreed to a game you don't even know how to play!"  
France dug out the instructions from the box. "I can't read it." he said.  
"You can't- you're illiterate?!" England exclaimed.  
"Illiterate? _Moi?! Non!_ I just can't read English." France huffed, crossing his arms.  
"But you speak it? Blimey, you make zero sense whatsoever." the Englishman said, looking down at the rules. They were written out in cursive with a loopy hand. "Wait! This is your handwriting!"  
" _Oui,_ but it is in English." France said dejectedly.  
"You can speak and write in English, but you cannot read it?! How the bloody hell is that even possible?! I mean, if you can write in English, you can obviously read it!" France opened his mouth to speak, but England shushed him. "I don't understand you, Frog, but let me teach you to play, or we'll never get a game done. See this pair of tweezers? What you do is you try to get the little bones out of the holes."  
"Zat's what she said." France snorted.  
"Well, not necessarily bones, but ailments, more like." England said, trying very hard to keep his cool and not punch the Frenchman in the whiskers. "However, if you touch the edges-" he touched the edge of a hole. There was an obnoxious buzzing sound that made France jump. "-it is the next person's turn. Got all that, Frog?"  
" _Oui._ But we could also use ze tweezers to fix zose nasty eyebrows of yours..." the Frenchman said, making to grab the tweezers from the Brit.  
England held the small tool away from France. "Hands off, you wine-loving bastard! Youngest goes first!"  
"Who in ze world came up with zat rule?" France complained, making another grab for the tweezers.  
"I said hands off!" England repeated angrily, slapping France's perfectly manicured hands away. "Don't touch me, you wanker!"

Eventually they came to an agreement. As long as France did not use the tweezers to pluck his brow, pick at his teeth, or pinch someone's nipples, he could go first. They sat at the conference table, England on one side, France on the other. France had already removed the Funny Bone from its slot, and it was England's turn.  
England's large eyebrows were knitted in conversation as he tried to get the Broken Heart out of its slot. He lifted the piece up... it was almost there... and then!  
"When is lunch?" France asked, breaking the Englishman's concentration. There was a loud buzz and the piece fell back into its slot.  
"You idiot! You made me mess up on purpose!" England said angrily.  
"Aw... ze little country can't handle a broken heart..." France simpered.  
"I swear to bloody Christ that I will-" England threatened.  
France grabbed his wrists and pulled him in for a kiss.

England quickly pulled away from the kiss. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, you sod?!" he said angrily, trying to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. "Are you under the impression that - that I like you or something?! You're mental, you stupid wine-loving bastard!"  
France frowned. "Your lips taste just like your cooking, _mon amour_. Zey taste terrible."  
"Well, your lips taste like bloody sea snails!" England snapped, trying to get his wrists out of France's grasp. However, he was getting tired from his efforts to wrench himself from France's hold and his movements started to weaken. He was so angry, he couldn't think of anything but kicking France in the balls.

"Sea snails are better zan zat food you cook, if you can call it zat. Do you season it with _merde?_ " France asked, leaning closer to England. "Your scones taste so bad, zat not even ze most hungry dog in Paris would eat it."  
"That was my mumsie's recipe! How dare you, you stupid Frog!" England said, his face red with anger. He writhed in France's grasp.  
"You know, _mon amour_ , you need to quiet down and relax once in a while..." France whispered in England's ear. He crawled over the tabletop and landed behind England silently like a cat, his hands still holding England's wrists.  
He pressed both of England's wrists onto the table, holding them down with one hand, and used the other to undo the ribbon that kept his ponytail up. He used the ribbon to tie England's wrists to the back of his chair.

"What the hell are you doing, you sod?!" England yelled, trying to undo the knot. However, it was too tight, and he only rubbed his wrists raw. France walked around the chair and out of England's line of sight. "Where are you going, Frog?! If you're going to keep me locked in here until the others get back, I will-" England felt a firm pair of hands start to massage his tight shoulders. "What the bloody hell-" he winced as France hit a particularly tight knot. "Ngh! France! Stop! I will tell Germany that you did this to me if you don't stop this instant!" he said, his voice shaking as he tried to keep his composure. He knew he probably looked like a hot mess, melting beneath France's hands like the styrofoam cup of noodles in his microwave. (Yes, he even fucked up trying to cook ramen.)  
"F-France...." he stammered.  
"Yes, _mon amour?_ Zis feels good, no?" France said softly in his ear.  
"Mmm.... yes..." England said, his muscles relaxing under France's touch. "Ohhh.... That feels brilliant..." he said, closing his eyes. His large eyebrows were contracted in pleasure. He let out a soft moan of arousal, feeling himself getting hard in the chair. He knew he shouldn't be acting like this, but he always thought France handsome, despite the contradicting words that came out of his mouth on a daily basis. He often fantasized himself with the Frenchman, though he'd always slap himself in the face afterwards.  
"Would you like to feel even better?" France asked, his hands on England's chest.  
England gave a small nod and looked at France breathless, his chest heaving. "Oh God yes, Francis." he said. He knew there was no going back after this, but he did not fancy himself playing Operation with a boner for the next three hours.

France's pupils dilated, almost completely black with lust as he started to unbutton England's white shirt and loosen his red tie. He always wondered why England wore such professional clothing all the time, even on holiday. _'Does zis man have any casual clothes?'_ he thought to himself as he achingly undid every button. He wanted nothing more than to rip the shirt off of England's small body and throw it somewhere, but he knew the Briton would kill him if he did. After he undid the shirt, he pushed hit off England's shoulders so that they hung around his lower arms. The shirt was pushed as low as possible without having to untie the nation. He marveled at the British nation's thin and slender body, which was somehow completely devoid of scars, even though France swore he kicked England's butt at least once. His eyes wandered down to the Englishman's black trousers, which had a visible tent where the man's cock was aching to get free.

England sat there, gasping for air and trying to calm the raging lust that was growing inside of him. He wanted nothing more than to get free of his restraints and allow France to fuck him senseless. But he knew he had to be patient. His eyes were clouded with lust as he looked up at France helplessly. France unzipped his own jeans and took out his cock. It was long and slender, the tip a bright red, proud and fully erect.  
"I want you to suck it." he said.  
England smirked and took France into his mouth.

France hissed as his cock was plunged into sudden warmth. England took France all the way in, his cock hitting the back of England's throat.  
"Ngh... Arthur..." He moaned as the British started to suck fervently.  
England ran his tongue up and down the Eiffel Tower, swirling his tongue in France's head. He licked the slit before running his teeth lightly over the shaft, causing France to whimper and bite his lip.  
"God... _Mon amour_... Zat feels _magnifique_..." France gasped, his face flushed.  
England stopped and pulled away suddenly. "Oh God. I just realised. I had a frog in my throat." he said, laughing.  
"Zat was not a good one!" France said, scoffing at the pun.  
"It was too a good one. Now can we stop with the blowjobs so you can fuck me, please?"  
_'Typical British. Always with ze nice manners, even when zey are asking you to fuck zeir brains out.'_ France thought to himself.

France untied England and laid him on the table. He pulled the Briton's shirt off and tossed it somewhere in the corner, causing the other country to let out an odd squawk.  
"I just ironed that, Frog!" England said disdainfully.  
"Zen you can have ze honour of ironing it again when we're done." France said, pressing his nose to England's chest. "You smell _magnifique, mon amour._ "  
"What do I smell like?" England asked, slightly amused.  
"You smell like a crisp autumn day, a cup of jasmine tea, and.... a small pinch of cinnamon." France said decisively.  
"Well, you smell like roses and a cup of cheap coffee." England said. "I've smelled better."  
"Ugh! Arthur! You are always so... so.... frustrating!" France said woefully.  
"You do seem to know me pretty well, my weak, wine-loving bastard." England said, pretending to blush.

"Weak? I will show you weak after you're like putty in my hands! You will scream my name out of pure ecstasy!" France said.  
"How much do you want to bet?" the Englishman asked, smirking.  
"Zree bottles of well-matured wine from my own collection." France said. "What are you betting?"  
"I guess I'll counter with three corgi puppies bred under her Majesty's supervision at Buckingham Palace." England said.  
"It is on! Onhonhonhon!" France laughed.

France swooped over England like a bird of prey and gave him his specialty, the French Kiss. The two countries' tongues clashed against each other, waging a war for dominance. France won, as it was of his own creation, and he was also making up rules as he went, such as no tag-backs and a base. The two men broke apart, gasping for air like Atlantis out of water.  
France licked a spot on England's neck, causing the other man to shudder at the new sensation.  
"F-France... That feels funny." England said, trying to push France away. France grabbed the younger nation's wrists and held them down on the table.  
"Le shush..." France said, nibbling on a spot near England's jugular.  
"T-that isn't even proper F-French!" England gasped, squirming under the other man. "Don't you dare leave a mark! If you do, I will kill y-you..."  
"Not proper French? I am ze embodiment of France! I believe zat I would know ze language better zan any tea-sipping lord of Britain!" France said proudly. He appeared not to have heard the threat about leaving marks on England's skin. He nipped the Briton roughly on the neck, causing the Englishman to jump.  
"France!" England yelped.  
"Shush..." France said, sucking at the spot.

France turned his attention to the lower parts of England's anatomy, especially that Big Ben that he'd been hearing all about from America.  
He licked a trail down to England's navel. He stopped there to unzip and unbutton the Brit's trousers with his teeth. He pulled the trousers off England's legs and sent them flying in a completely different direction than the shirt, causing them to land on Greece, who was asleep on the floor. Greece gave a snort but did not wake.  
England gave a growl of annoyance at France's messy was to properly dispose of clothing.  
"Don't worry, you can iron zose too, _oui?_ " France said.  
England grumbled something about it being perfectly reasonable to take some time out of the day to properly fold and put away clothing.

France's nimble fingers played with the waistband on England's Union Jack y-fronts. The front was slightly wet with pre-cum.  
"Very patriotic I see... Do you have another pair with ze Queen's face on ze front?" France snorted.  
"Shut up, you sod." England said, his face flushed with arousal and embarrassment. "Get on with it."  
"Impatient now, are we? Well-" France said, licking the centre of the Union Jack. He traced the red cross with his tongue, causing England to release an explicit moan that sounded oddly like, 'France.' "-we can't have zat, can we?"  
"Ngh! Hurry up and get inside me, you wanker!" England said heatedly. "Fuck!" He moaned as France palmed the bulge.

"You seem very sensitive here, _non?_ " Frances asked. He flicked the tent, causing England to yelp. " _Oui_ , very sensitive..."  
"Of course I'm sensitive, you wine-loving bastard! I'd bet you'd be too if you spent a while with an effing prick and had been aroused for ten minutes giving a blonde fellatio!" England spat.  
"Oh! Do you have somezing for blondes?" France asked, his eyes sparkling maliciously.  
"N-no! S-shut up and fuck me already!" England said, hiding his blushing face with his hands.  
"Very well, but we will talk about zis blonde-fetish later." France said, flipping his long blonde locks.  
"No, we will not." England said pointedly.  
"Sure, _mon amour_ , sure." France said, before pulling England's pants down suddenly. He threw the terribly horrid Union Jack underpants somewhere near the door.  
England gasped as the cool air hit his aroused member. "Ngh... Damn..." he grunted, trying to adjust to the temperature change. It wasn't easy with the fact that France was blowing on his cock. "Will you cut that out?!!" England yelled. "I don't want your fucking teasing! I want you inside of me!"

France took two fingers and rubbed some of England's pre-cum between them, before sticking one inside the Briton. "Is zis your first time?"  
England's hand's gripped the edge of the conference table, his knuckles almost white in colour. "How'd you know?" he asked through gritted teeth.  
"Well, for one zing, you have ze tightest asshole I've ever seen." France said.  
"Sorry about that, can't help it." England said, wincing.  
"Ah... Notzing a little preparation can't fix." France said casually, sticking another finger through the tight ring of muscle.  
England's back arched and he let out a barrage of swear words that surely would have made even Romano's ears bleed. He hissed as France scissored him open. "Zis is notzing compared to what will eventually be inside you, so try to relax." France said patiently.  
"Relax? Relax?! How am I supposed to relax when I've got a pair of fingers shoved up my arse?!" England asked, spasming as France inserted another finger. Suddenly, he gasped. "Oh my fucking scones! What the bloody hell did you just do?!"  
"Zat, England, is your prostate. It is a gland zat releases a fluid component to semen and is very sensitive. It feels good, no?" France asked, tapping the gland lightly.  
England felt a knot of pleasure tighten in his stomach every time France touched the little gland. "Yeah... it feels brilliant." he gasped. Unknowingly, he began to fuck himself with France's fingers, releasing small moans of pleasure until the taller nation withdrew them. The knot started to unravel as soon as the sensation of France's appendages disappeared. England gave a disappointed whine.

"Okay, England. I am going to put my penis inside you now. Are you ready?" France asked, slicking his cock up with lube that conveniently just so happened to be in his back pocket. The Frenchman aligned himself with England's entrance.  
England took a deep breath and nodded, letting out a small scream as France pushed inside him. He took deep breaths and tried to relax as France pushed deeper and deeper into him, finally being buried to the hilt.  
England was gasping for air, trying to keep calm as his body adjusted to the new sensation inside of him. His anus clenched around France tightly.  
France waited patiently, not moving a whisker until England gave him leave to do so, even if England was suffocating the most important part of his body. He could have sworn his dick had turned purple.  
Finally, England loosened up around France and exhaled. "Okay... I'm ready." he said.

France pulled almost all the way out, until only his head remained inside of England, before thrusting back into the Briton. England's chest rose and fell in quick succession as the feeling of pain was slowly replaced with that of pleasure. Soon he was a pleasurable mess beneath France, who was thrusting into him at an even pace.  
"Faster.... Francis..." England gasped.  
France quickened his pace and started to move in a different direction, plunging his Eiffel Tower repeatedly into England's Tube.  
England's nails were digging into France's clothed shoulders as the two fucked on the conference table. The knot in England's stomach was growing uncomfortably tight. He started to buck his hips, but France held them down to stop him from moving. Finally, when England though he was going to die of pleasure, he came. Long white ribbons of spunk shot out of his prick, covering his bare chest, stomach, and France's t-shirt with the chibi musketeer on the front.  
France came shortly afterwards, the sensation of England's muscles contracting around him was too much for the Frenchman. He rode out his orgasm and then fell forwards, his hands planted on either side of England's head. He bent down and kissed the other nation, his cock still inside of him.

"So, how was your game of Operation?" America asked, walking into the conference room two hours later. Canada and Russia looked like they had the time of their lives, but with Russia you could never be too sure.  
"Oh... I got the Frog in my Throat, but I couldn't pick up the Broken Heart." England said passively.  
"I gave him my Funny Bone." France said. "And by Funny Bone I mean - "  
"Shut up, Frog!" England spat.  
"Make _moi_ , Eyebrows!" France retorted.  
"Ah... It look like they had fun." Russia said.  
"They were very much enjoying themselves..." Greece said sleepily. He yawned and put his head in his arms.  
"Vhat do you mean?" Russia asked.  
"I'll tell you later." Greece said, looking nervously at a clearly interested America. He slipped his phone back into his pocket.  
"Hey, England. Dude, is that a hickey on your neck?" America asked, pointing to England, who had tried his best to hide the blemish with the collar of his wrinkled shirt.  
England shot a murderous look at France.  
"Um... No, Alfred. It's a birthmark..." he said.  
"A birthmark zat'd probably go avay in about... a veek, maybe?" Prussia said wickedly.  
England mouthed _'You owe me three bottles of wine'_ to France, who pretended not to notice him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	9. Japan and China: A Lost Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> China and Japan go for a bite to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> -San: Sir/Mr
> 
> Měiguó: America
> 
> Betonamu sensō: Vietnam War
> 
> Īdesu ne: Sounds good
> 
> Nǐ hǎo: Hello
> 
> Stultus: idiot
> 
> Morologus: fool
> 
> Luómǎ dìguó: Roman Empire
> 
> Norowareta: cursed

"So, Greece, you're with China and Japan. Wait - where's Greece?" America asked, looking up from the greasy paper.  
"I'm here." Greece said, raising his hand weakly in the air, the tips of his fingers just visible over the tabletop. "I don't want to move.... I was dragged down five floors worth of stairs.... It hurts to move... Mew."  
"Okay! Greece is staying back too then. Spain, Romano, and Prussia are a group, and I think that's it!" America said energetically, crumpling the paper into a ball. He threw it behind him, hitting Canada in the face.

"I reary don't understand America- _san._ " Japan said, walking beside the taller China as they walked through the cobbled streets of Pisa. Terracotta-topped buildings stood on either side of them, giving the two nations a pleasant bit of shade.  
" _Ai yah!_ I gave up trying to understand him long ago. Too much capitalism, I think." China said.  
"He is a very unique country to say the reast. His house is rike rarge pot of diverse culture." Japan said sagely, his voice quiet. "He is very nice and kind, if not bit eccentric. He is always willing to help out other countries."

"A bit eccentric? This is _Měiguó_ we are talking about, Honda." China said, his hands in his sleeves.  
"True. Very true, Yao. But he is powerful and brave. Except for _Betonamu sensō_. He run away rike a _tengu_ in earthquake." Japan said.  
" _Ai yah!_ Enough about America. Let us get something to eat. I was thinking pizza." China said, pointing to a small restaurant.  
" _Īdesu ne._ " Japan said, heading towards the cafe, China in the lead.

The two walked through the door. China waved. " _Nǐ hǎo!_ " he said.  
A grumpy looking blonde looked up from the book he was filling out, an expression of annoyance was clearly readable on his face.  
"Welcome to Caesar's. My name is Liberius Acropolita Caelus. How many in your party?"  
"Two please!" China said, squinting at the man. He seemed familiar some how.  
"Okay. Whatever..." Caelus said, picking up two menus. "Follow me."

Caelus led them to a small table in an alcove with a wide window. They had a perfect view of the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  
"I will be your waiter for this afternoon. Could I get you anything to drink?"   
"Uh... tea for me." Japan said quietly.  
"Two teas! Unsweetened please!" China said.  
"We only have unsweet tea, you _stultus_. I'm not going to sweeten your tea just because you're too lazy to do it yourself. There are sugar packets on your table. Sweeten it yourself, _morologus._ " Caelus snapped. He turned on his heel and stalked off to the kitchens.

"Wow. Are all Italians this rude?" Japan asked.  
"No, not all of them. I remember now. Caelus has just been around for a long time. Almost as long as me, _aru._ He is angry at himself because he hasn't been able to fade yet." China said.  
"What do you mean?" Japan asked, looking at the closed kitchen door.   
"Liberius Acropolita Caelus' real name is Byzantine Empire. He has lost his country and has lived a harsh like of suffering. He is one of the sons of _Luómǎ dìguó_. That is why he used Latin insults. You see, when Roman Empire died, Byzantine Empire took his inheritance and spread his influence all across Eastern Europe. He lived much longer than his brother, Western Roman Empire, who died young. There are rumours that Byzantine Empire is the father of Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus, but it is not entirely known.  
"I met Byzantine Empire many years ago on the Silk Road. He began to grow in power, and I feared that he might try and take my house from me, but he never did. Eventually, Ottoman Empire, Turkey's grandfather, conquered Byzantine, but apparently the ex-empire has not faded yet. He appears to be very bitter, so do not mention Ottoman or Turkey in front of him." China whispered.  
"Sound rike he is _Norowareta._ " Japan said, looking down at his menu.  
"That is what I thought. I think Prussia might be cursed too. So, what are you getting to eat? Personally, I was thinking of getting the four-cheese pizza."

About thirty minutes later, Japan and China walked into the bright Italian sun. They headed back to _Plaza Leone_ , the meeting place for the World Conference, arriving about five in the evening.  
Japan's mind wandered to Prussia.   
Would the ex-nation grow to be as cold and depressed as Byzantine Empire was? He thought of how Caelus simply wanted to fade and be at peace. Would Prussia wish for death?  
The Asian country sat in his seat looking troubled.  
"-that'd probably go away in about a veek, maybe?" Prussia smirked. Gilbert's voice roused Kiku from his thoughts.  
Japan saw England deliberately mouth something at France, who seemed to be ignoring him.  
Japan's gentle heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice. Prussia seemed to still think that his immortality was merely luck. He didn't know that immortality wasn't living forever. It was everyone else dying and fading away.  
"Are you okay, Japan?" Italy asked.  
"Yes... I think so..." Japan said, pushing the lump in his throat down to his stomach. He felt like crying for the poor albino ex-nation, no matter how annoying Prussia was being at the moment.  
"Oh... Okay." Italy said, looking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byzantine Empire:  
> 
> 
> My DeviantArt is English-Scones btw. Not much to put up yet.... so... yep.


	10. Austria, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein: A Battle of Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Austria, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein are taking a break by going to the Performer's Square.
> 
> I swear to God, writing this has made me spell Liechtenstein so many times, I could spell it in my SLEEP!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Arsch: Ass
> 
> Scheiss: Shit
> 
> Ja: Yes
> 
> Gratzie: Thanks
> 
> Malakíes: Bullshit
> 
> Italía: Italy
> 
> Kríti: Crete

"Okay, Two are staying back. So, Russia, you're going to be with me and Canada. Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, you're going to hang with each other for the rest of the day. Liechtenstein, Switzerland, and Austria, you're a group-" America said, consulting the greasy list.  
"What?! I am not being in a group with this - this _arsch!_ " Switzerland spat, pointing a finger at Austria, who was on the other side of Liechtenstein.  
"Vell, I don't vant to be vith zis load of _scheiss_ eizer!" Austria said stubbornly, refusing to even look at the blonde nation.  
"To bad! Germany put you together for a reason, sucks to suck!" America said happily. "So, Greece, you're with China and Japan. Wait - where's Greece?" the dirty-blonde nation asked, looking up from the crinkled list.  
Greece had been dragged down the stairs and apparently couldn't move. However, Switzerland believed the spaced-out nation had more devious purposes. He lay on the floor in a raw-skinned heap, already snoozing away. But Switzerland could tell a faker when he saw one, often having to tell a tireless Liechtenstein to stop sewing in her room and go to bed.

After the nations broke up into groups to do their own thing, Switzerland took Liechtenstein by the hand and briskly led her out of the conference room. Austria followed slowly behind.  
"Liechtenstein, what would you like to do?" Switzerland asked, looking at his little sister.  
"Big Brother, shouldn't we also ask what Austria wants to do?" the gentle country asked, looking up at her brother. "He's a kind person at heart... he's nice to me..."  
"You heard what he said before we split into groups." Switzerland said. He used his best Austria accent, which sounded like a dying cow. "He said, 'Vell, I don't vant to be vith zis load of _scheiss_ eizer!' He obviously isn't a nice person!" Switzerland said angrily.  
"He was hurt. You hurt his feelings, Big Brother..." Liechtenstein said, looking at the floor. She stopped walking. "You should give him another chance. Let him prove he is not a bad person."  
Switzerland growled and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine. We will have a truce." he said. He looked over at Austria, who was jogging to catch up with the fast walking Swiss and the small Liechtensteiner. The Austrian finally caught up to them, leaning forwards as he attempted to catch his breath.  
Austrians are some of the slowest walkers in the world, whereas the Swiss are one of the fastest.

"Ay, Austria..." Switzerland said, addressing the virtuoso awkwardly.  
" _Ja?_ " the brunette asked, looking at Switzerland wearily.  
"I decided that for this afternoon only, we will have a truce." the blonde said stiffly.  
"Zen shake on it." Austria said.  
"Fine." Switzerland said, offering the musician his hand. It was shaking slightly, his first instinct to jerk it out of the other nation's reach. Austria took it in his own, his grip firm as they shook each other's hands and made a temporary pact. Switzerland couldn't help blushing as he felt the country's warm hand holding his own. He hadn't held the Austrian's hand in a long while. Not since Austria got a new boss. He quickly took his calloused hand out of the pianist's soft one, looking down at the ground, determined not to make eye contact.

"So... Now that we've got that over with..." Switzerland said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Any ideas on what we're going to do with out free time?"  
"I was thinking the Performer's Square." Liechtenstein and Austria said in unison. The both looked at each other and grinned.  
"The Performer's Square it is then." Switzerland said, heading north.  
"Uh... Svitzerland? Zhe Square's south of us." Austria said, grinning that _scheiss_ -eating grin that always drove Switzerland crazy.  
"I-I knew that!" Switzerland said, slightly flustered.  
"Of course you did." Austria said under his breath.  
"S-Shut up!"

They arrived at the Performer's Square at around noon. Austria looked around at all the colourful ribbons, flowers, and costumes of the performers. They had everything here. Torch jugglers, fire breathers, acrobats, singers, musicians, thespians, vendors, and clowns. He looked at Switzerland, who looked like he was going to have an epileptic fit from all the colours.

"Gah..." the Swiss choked, trying to take in all the music, singing, merrymaking, bantering, and dancing. He was never one for parties.  
"Well, come on Big Brother!" Liechtenstein said, pulling Switzerland by the hand.  
"L-L-Liechtenstein..." Switzerland stammered, backing away from all the festivities as his sister tugged on his hand. "Wha-?!" He felt himself being pushed towards a stall that sold flower crowns. His face flushed as her realised that Austria was the one pushing him.  
"Come on, Svitzerland! Have a bit of fun!" Austria said, slowly pushing the Swiss towards the stand. Once they were in front of the stand, Liechtenstein gazed longingly at a purple flower crown.  
Austria nudged her out of the way. "Zree flower crowns please." he said.  
Liechtenstein gasped as he handed the vendor some money and selected a blue flower crown, along with an orange crown, and the small purple crown that Liechtenstein was eyeing.  
" _Gratzie!_ " the woman who ran the stand said. "You have such a beautiful family! You are a lucky man!"  
"I'm not his - I mean, he's not my - oh vhatever." Austria stammered. He handed the delicate purple crown to Liechtenstein, before placing the blue one on his own head. He jammed the orange one on Switzerland's head.

"You didn't have to do that..." Switzerland said, looking away. He was always sensitive on the topic of spending money.  
" _Ja,_ I know. But I zought you'd look so beautiful in a flower crown. I would have gotten you zhe yellow one, but it vould clash terribly with your hair." Austria said cooly.  
Switzerland blushed the colour of Romano's tomatoes. "Austria, I-"  
"Oh! Look zere! Zat man is playing ze violin! Let's get closer!" Austria said, pushing Liechtenstein and Switzerland over to a man that was surrounded by a crowd of tourists.

As soon as Austria got closer, however, he made a grimace.  
"Austria? What's the matter?" Liechtenstein asked, looking up at him with a worried expression on her face.  
"Ze colours aren't right." Austria said, frowning. Switzerland later researched this and found that Austria had a condition in which his senses were slightly different than the average person's. He could hear and see music. "He is playing it vrong."  
The musician heard him and stopped playing. "What do you mean, 'playing it wrong'? Are you like some sort of God of Music or something?" he snapped.  
"No, but I am a musician, and a superb one at zat. I have been playing music for over two hundred years. My name is Austria." Austria said, walking towards the portly violinist. The crowd parted for him.

"Haha! _Malakíes!_ You can't be him, because he'd be a lot better looking, and not in fucking _Italía._ If you are truly a superb musician, then show me your skill! A battle of music, I challenge you to." the violinist taunted. "Show me your worth, O great Austria!"  
"I accept." Austria said, a Stradivarius materialising in his hand, a bow in the other. "I vill let you start. Youngest goes first."  
The man looked slightly wary, but determined all the same.

"Very well then." the violinist said, positioning his violin. "One song each. The crowd is the judge!" He moved the bow up and down the strings, playing what suspiciously sounded like the Hetalia theme that was extended, but we won't go there... He smirked as he saw the audience gaze open-mouthed, as in a trance, at his music. Their entire being started to relax, and some began tap their feet or sway to the beat. Finally, after what seemed like a short time, he stopped, ending his song with a flourish.  
The small crowd broke out into a storm of applause. The man took a bow and reappeared, his face smug.

Austria scoffed. "Music is not just about playing ze notes zat are given to ze musician on a sheet. It is about understanding ze music and its composer. Once you understand vhat vas in ze composer's heart vhen zey wrote it, only zen can you actually play." he said softly.  
Switzerland's eyes widened. Sure he knew that Austria loved music, but he never knew that he was so passionate about it. He never knew how deep Austria's love for music went, and that he lived and breathed it.

Austria put the violin on his shoulder and lowered the bow to the strings. He started to play a more melodic version of Edelweiss from _Sound of Music_ , his bow moving up and down the strings in such a way that the music seemed to be fluid like water. Like a cool river coming down from the mountains. His passion for his land came out in his music, all the love and glory, but also all the sadness and terror from the World Wars came with it. The crowd was silent. Nobody moved a single limb until Austria was finished. Then there was silence. Utter silence.

Suddenly, a small sound broke the still air. A small faint clapping. Austria looked up and blushed. Switzerland was clapping for him. Then Liechtenstein joined in, tears in her eyes. Soon, the crowd roused themselves from their state of being stuck in a dreamlike reality, where nothing but Austria's music existed. The applause was tremendous. Even people outside the small crowd, like performers and such, started to clap, until the whole square was filled with applause. Austria was sure that the sound of clapping in the Performer's Square could be heard kilometres away.

The violinist kneeled at Austria's feet, tears in his eyes. "Never... have I heard such beautiful music... I am not worthy..." he said meekly. "Take my violin. I will never play it again, for I cannot live up to your expectations on what a true musician should be. I will go back to playing the lyre."  
"You are an honourable musician, but your pride gets in ze vay of your potential. I vould like you to have zis." Austria said, holding out his Stradivarius to the scruffy musician.  
"Mr Austria, I could never accept such a priceless gift..." the man gasped.  
"Take it, or I vill send Hungary after you, _ja?_ " Austria said, smiling.  
The man took the violin with shaking hands. "Yes sir... I will do my best to live up to your name." he said softly. He got to his feet shakily.

"Tell me, my good sir, vhat is your name?" Austria asked.  
"Uh... Crete... It's Ancient Crete." the man said. "But I prefer Catreus. I do not deserve the name of Ancient Crete, because my culture is dead, and that part of me is dead too... Except for the lyre. The lyre is my precious...."  
"Ancient Crete? Aren't you supposed to be.... dead?" Austria asked, taken aback.  
"I thought so... I died, but then I came back. I appear to have been cursed. My culture is gone, yet I have lived for over one thousand years." Catreus said, putting Austria's Stradivarius in his trashbag, which he called his backpack. He lifted the bag over his shoulder. "It was good to talk to you, Austria. I am sorry about our miscommunication earlier. But, I must say, you were wrong about the youngest goes first rule. Who in the world came up with that rule? I want to challenge you to a lyre contest one day... We may meet again, earlier than you might expect." Catreus said, winking at the Austrian. He disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Switzerland's eyes widened as he saw the amateur violinist disappear in a cloud of purple glittery smoke.  
Austria sighed and turned round and headed towards them.  
"Ay, Austria. Who was that?" Switzerland asked when Austria stopped in front of them.  
"A vandering nation." Austria said offhandedly.  
"Who was it?" Liechtenstein asked, looking up at the brunette.  
"Ancient Crete." the Austrian said sadly.  
"Anci-??!!!" What?!" Switzerland sputtered. He struggled to regain his composure. After a minute, he said, "How can he still be here? I mean, shouldn't he be dead?"   
"He is cursed." Austria said. "I don't vant to talk about it." The Austrian pushed past Switzerland and Liechtenstein. "Ve should go back."

The three countries sat back in their seats, Switzerland now stealing glances at Austria once in a while. The atmosphere was more awkward than ever. They looked like they had run through a faerie grove and had a totally gay time.  
"Looks like you had fun." Germany said, nodding at Liechtenstein's flower crown.  
Liechtenstein pulled herself out of her daze.  
"Oh yes.... We went to the Performer's Square and Austria bought Switzerland and me flower crowns. He also had a music battle with Ancient Crete." she said softly.  
"Kríti?" Greece said, perking up. "My old friend is alive?"  
"You know Crete?" Austria asked, speaking for the first time since they had gotten back

"Yeah! Of course I know him!" Greece said happily. "He always helped me solve puzzles, mazes especially. He's very lazy and loves bulls. He had this large white bull once.... and the King's wife, she-"  
"How about we stop right there?" England said firmly. He was very familiar with the story of the Minotaur.  
"Right, yes." Greece said. He spaced out again.  
"I zought Ancient Crete vas dead." Germany said. "I zought he died vhen Roman Empire fell."

"He vas cursed." Austria said. "I don't know how. I vonder who did it, and vhy. I've also been vondering, how many ozer nations like him are out zere."  
"I would say that Russia is cursed. Did you see what he did to Busby's chair?" England said. "It bloody blew up! I had to tape it back together.... twice!" England said, standing up quickly. He winced and sat back down slowly. He was still sore from being drilled in the arse by France.  
"We know Byzantine is cursed." China said.  
"Byzantine's still out zere?" Germany asked, taken aback.  
"Yes. He reary rude. I tink Romano inherited some of his genes." Japan said.  
"Zat vould make sense." Austria said.

Suddenly, the doors burst open and Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia burst into the conference room, screaming about a crazy chariot-riding man in ancient armour.  
They looked terrible. Their hair was messed up, and full of twigs (and in Lithuania's case, birds), their arms were scratched, and their clothes were torn and covered in dirt, the exception being Latvia, who was wearing nothing but a skirt of leaves strung together with a bit of fishing line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were wondering, yes, Austria has Synesthesia. A good friend of mine has Synesthesia, and she sees colour when she listens to music. It's a cool thing, really, but it makes her a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to music. She nearly hit me over the head with a book when I tried to sing 'Tragedy' by the BeeGees. I suck at singing. There. I said it. I know nothing about music, so correct me if anything isn't exact. Mind you, correct me on anything that isn't exact in any of the chapters. I need the feedback. 
> 
> ;) Cheers! Love from Sammers


	11. Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania: A walk, they said...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Latvia, Estonia, and Lithuania go on a walk...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Kääbus: dwarf
> 
> Krievija: Russia
> 
> Dievs: God
> 
> ES tevi ienīstu: I hate you
> 
> Ole nüüd: come on
> 
> Ne: no
> 
> Kitsede väljaheited: goat droppings
> 
> Señor Oso: Mr Bear
> 
> Cucarachas: cockroaches
> 
> Mierda: poop
> 
> Nein: no
> 
> Si: yes
> 
> Zdravstvuyte: hello
> 
> Non: no
> 
> Otets: Father
> 
> Testiculis: testicles/balls

"Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, you're going to hang with each other for the rest of the day. Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Austria, you're a group-" America read off the page.  
 _'Oh God. Ve're in a group. Big surprise.'_ Estonia thought, rolling his eyes. _'Everyone alvays pairs us up. Just because ve're the Three Baltic States. I just vant this conference to end so I can go back to vriting my blog.'_  
"-that's what it says on the list, now break and let the fun begin!" America finished, pushing Russia and Canada out of the room.

Estonia heard Russia say, "Don't touch me or I'll kill everyone you love." in his usual calm voice. Estonia swore the man was a psychopath. No one could be THAT happy all the time.  
What scared him even more was the fact that America got even more physical, putting his arm around Russia. "Dude! C'mon! Relax!" America said.  
Estonia was sure the room's temperature had just dropped to fifty degrees below zero. He wondered whether America was extremely brave, extremely stupid, or both.

"Vell, vhat are ve going to do?" Latvia asked, tugging on Estonia's sleeve.  
"Uh... How about a valk in the forest?" Lithuania suggested.  
"A valk couldn't hurt." Estonia said, shrugging. "I'll just use my phone's global navigating system to keep track of vere ve are. This could be fun."   
How very wrong they were.

The green trees rose up around them, shading the dirt footpath in front of them.  
The birds sang in the trees, their melody mixing with the faint rustle of leaves and the sound of water trickling from a nearby stream.  
"Ah! This is such a nice view! I vish my house vas like this! Italy is a very beautiful place." Lithuania said.  
"They have nice food, good beaches, excellent veather, amazing tourism, and hot girls!" Latvia said.  
"Latvia, shut up. You're too small for a girlfriend. She vould have to be around the age of five so you vouldn't look like a _kääbus_." Estonia said, patting the country on the head.

"Too small?! _Kääbus?!_ " Latvia cried. "If it hadn't been for Mr _Krievija_ , I vould have been at least ten centimetres taller!"   
"Sure, Latvia... sure..." Lithuania said, patting him on the shoulder. "You're so small, I could just pick you up like a child!"  
"Do that and I svear to Dievs that I vill go and tell Mr Russia that it vas you who 'misplaced' his Magic Metal Pipe of Pain. I bet he'll vant to break in a few svings of practice!" Latvia said angrily.  
"You're bluffing. You vouldn't talk to Mr Russia even if I gave you all the alcohol in the world!" Lithuania snapped.  
 _"ES tevi ienīstu!"_ Latvia yelled and ran off into the forest.

"Aw... _Ole nüüd_. Ve're screwed." Estonia said after they stood in silence for about five minutes, adjusting to the horror that laid before them.  
"Ve promised Mr Russia not to vander off." Lithuania said. "Now Latvia's probably vandered off into a lion's den and is getting the skin ripped off him."  
"Oh vell, he got us into trouble often. I'll probably mourn for about five seconds, then I'll be good." Estonia said. He fell in the dirt and burst into tears. "Vhy, Latvia? Vhy?!! You vere alvays an idiot and vere too spaced out for your own good! Vhy did you have to run off and get eaten by a lion?" He stood back up, wiped his glasses on his t-shirt, and turned to face Lithuania. "I'm good now. Can ve go?"

"Not until ve find Latvia." Lithuania said firmly.  
Estonia groaned. "Ugh! But there's no air conditioning, and I feel as though I just got dumped into a svimming pool of sveat! I vant to be inside a cool building vith my computer."  
"Your blog can vait. Ve must find Latvia." Lithuania said stubbornly. He picked up a suitable walking stick off the ground and turned around. "Are you coming, or not?"  
"I'm coming.... I just vant to sulk a bit more before ve start looking...." Estonia said, laying on the ground, curled up in a ball.  
" _Ne!_ Ve're going now!" Lithuania said, grabbing Estonia's arm. He dragged the blonde off the path and into the forest.

"This is actually kind of relaxing..." Estonia said. "Could you drag me all the vay until ve find Latvia?"  
As if to answer his question, Lithuania dragged him over a collection of various unpleasant things such as mud and sharp rocks until Estonia said he was perfectly able to walk like a distinguished adult.  
Finally, they came to a stop.

"Vhat is it?" Estonia asked, trying to look around the Lithuanian. "Did you find his body of something?"  
"Something vorse. Much vorse." Lithuania said, not moving a muscle.  
"Vhat is it?" Estonia whispered.  
"Bear...." Lithuania said out of the corner of his mouth. "There is a sleeping bear, and it does not look like a nice one like Mr Kumajirou, Panda, or Russia in a panda suit... Actually, the latter probably isn't a nice one either." 

"Vhat kind of bear?" Estonia asked, his voice shaking.  
"A big bear vith lots of teeth, claws, and fur.... It looks like it could eat us..." the other nation whimpered.  
"Ve'll just back avay slowly.... Just back avay... Don't turn around, Lithuania... Just back avay..." the blonde hissed.  
Suddenly, there was a snap. Estonia had stepped on a twig.  
 _"Kitsede väljaheited..."_ Estonia swore.

The bear woke up with a jolt and roared at them, its hot breath blowing their hair back and splattering them with spit.  
" _H-Hola..._ " Lithuania stammered... "Uh... Hello _Señor Oso_." he said, waving at the slightly dazed bear nervously. "Please don't eat us. Ve taste like.... uh... _cucarachas_. Like _mierda_.... uh... poo poo."  
"Vhy are you speaking Spanish to it?" Estonia whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "It's a bear. It doesn't understand you."  
"S-Spanish? I thought I vas speaking Italian!" Lithuania said hysterically.  
"No. Just no, Lithuania. Vhy are you trying to communicate to the bear in Italian, anyvay?" Estonia hissed.  
"I-It lives in Italy, so it must be Italian. It's an Italian bear. So I thought it vould know some Italian." Lithuania said, his voice shaking.  
"Bears don't speak Italian!" Estonia hissed.

The bear looked at them both, thinking _"Well excuuuuuuuse me! What do they think I am? Some sort of idiot? Of course I know Italian, or my name isn't Cosimo di Italia. But seriously, why did they wake me up? Unlessssss.... They want me to eat them. I am a bit hungry....'_ The bear got to its paws.  
"E-E-Estonia? Ve should run..." Lithuania said, backing up.  
"Best idea you've had all day!" Estonia said, turning on his heel.  
"Ruuuuuuun!!!!!" Lithuania yelled.  
The two dashed away from the bear as fast as they could, screaming like a pair of teenage girls chasing after their favourite band.

"EeeauyyuHEAUUHEEYUUHHH!!!!" Estonia cried as the two of them ran through a thicket of brambles.  
"OiioiihiiiuyHOIUUHUUUHH!!!!" Lithuania yelled as the thorns cut into his skin.  
"I think ve lost it." Estonia gasped, turning around once they got into a clearing.  
There was a crackling noise coming from the large mass of bushes that they just ran through. Suddenly, the bear burst from the thicket, bellowing, spittle flying everywhere.

"Up a tree?" Estonia asked, turning to Lithuania.  
"Up a tree." the other agreed.  
The two scrambled up a large oak, Lithuania climbing headfirst into a bird's nest. Once they were completely sure they were out of the bear's reach, they took a deep breath and relaxed for a moment.  
"Hello Estonia, Lithuania." a voice said breathlessly.

The two nations almost fell out of the tree in shock to see a dirty, scratched, naked Latvia on a branch above them.  
"L-Latvia? Vhat are you doing here? Vhy are you naked?" Estonia asked, shielding his eyes from Latvia's bare form.  
"It's a long story involving a creepy guy who stole my clothes, a hairy fish, and a bokoblin. You don't vant to know." Latvia said, shaking his head. "I have a bit of fishing string, but unless ve somehow manage to slip it around the bear's neck and choke it to death, it's pretty much useless."  
"Ve could make you a little skirt to preserve your modesty." Lithuania suggested, but quickly added, "Of course, ve vould call it a kilt. Scotland vears them all the time."  
"Okay..." Latvia said slowly.  
"These are the times vhen I actually vish Russia vas here." Estonia said.

So there they sat, scratched, sweaty and dirty, waiting for the bear to tire itself out.  
For the next three hours they waited.  
The bear showed no sign of relenting, until...  
A sound like a horn blared through the forest. The bear's ears perked up and it stopped clawing at the tree trunk and ran back into the thicket.  
Relieved, Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia climbed down from the tree.

They headed in one direction for a while, sure that they would eventually stumble on the path again. It was dusk when suddenly, they heard applause, the sound of many people clapping.  
"Vhere is the noise coming from?" Estonia asked.  
"That vay!" Latvia exclaimed, pointing through the trees.  
The trio ran through the forest in a straight line, following the sound of people cheering. The people, whoever they were, seemed to be clapping for awhile.  
 _'Whatever they are cheering about must have been really good.'_ Lithuania thought, running after Latvia. Behind him was a wheezing Estonia.  
"Vait up... I'm tired..." the bespectacled blonde said.  
"Hurry up, Estonia!" Latvia said impatiently.

They finally reached the edge of the forest when the cheering stopped. They were on a grassy green hill that overlooked the city. There seemed to be some sort of gathering in the square. A performance, perhaps?  
"Vell, there is civilisation." Estonia said. "Remind me never to go on a valk vith you to ever again."  
"Estonia, never go on a valk vith us ever -" Latvia began.  
"I didn't mean right now!" Estonia snapped.

The horn sounded again. This time it seemed right behind them. The Three Baltic States turned around to see a strong-looking gigantic man wearing ancient gold armour burst through the trees in a chariot pulled by two white horses.  
The man blew the horn again, its cry echoing all around them.  
"MY NAME IS ANCIENT CARTHAGE!!!!" the soldier-man bellowed, even though they were only three feet from him.  
"You don't have to be so loud." Estonia said, touching his ears delicately, trying to make them stop ringing.  
"I AM A GENERAL!!! I MUST BE LOUD!!! IT SHOWS POWER!!! AND WHO MIGHT YOU BE TO QUESTION ME, WEASEL?!!!" Ancient Carthage yelled.  
"My name is Estonia. Isn't the name Ancient Carthage a bit redundant? I mean, Carthage vas an ancient city that isn't around anymore, so of course it is ancient..."  
"YOU SURE HAVE BALLS FOR A TINY MAN WITH A FUNNY ACCENT!!!" the redundant Carthage roared.  
Latvia snorted. "Look who's tiny now!"  
"You're still shorter than me." Estonia said flatly.  
"Excuse me sir, but Carthage fell a long time ago. It got destroyed by Roman Empire, did it not?" Lithuania asked.  
"YES IT DID! I AM IN SEARCH OF ROMAN EMPIRE TO WREAK HAVOC ON HIM!!! MAY HIM AND HIS KIN FEEL THE WRATH OF MY REVENGE!!!" Carthage shouted, spraying Lithuania with spit.

"Roman Empire is dead. And so are his sons, Vestern Roman Empire and Byzantine Empire. He has two grandkids though. Their names are Italy and Romano." Latvia said. "Ve know them."  
"Latvia! You shouldn't have said that!" Lithuania panicked.  
Latvia was naturally spacey.  
A look of triumph washed over Carthage's face, and his dark eyes glittered with bloodlust. "LEAD ME TO THIS ITALY AND ROMANO!" the charioteer commanded.  
"N-no thank you... I think ve vill just... uh... go now..." Estonia said, before darting off to the plaza where the World Conference was. Latvia and Lithuania darted after him, and Carthage in hot pursuit.

Estonia burst into the conference room. "THERE IS A CRAZY-ASS MAN VITH A CHARIOT THAT VANTS ITALY AND ROMANO'S HEADS!" he screamed, before hiding behind Russia.  
"Ohnhonhon! A crazy ass-man, you say?" France asked.  
Behind Estonia burst in Latvia and Lithuania, who yelled something along the same lines as Estonia before also hiding behind Russia.  
"G-Germany... You won't let him take my head, will you?" Italy asked, grabbing Germany's sleeve.  
" _Nien_." Germany said, pulling out his gun. "Zis 'Carthage' vill never take you avay from me."  
"And you've got me! _Si_ , Romano?" Spain asked, winking at Italy's older brother.  
"I don't need your protection, you bastard!" Romano said, blushing furiously.  
"So says ze nation zat puts an active grenade in his mouth instead of zrowing it at ze enemy..." France muttered under his breath.  
"Shut up!" Romano yelled.

Suddenly, there was a crash and the doors of the conference room flew open to reveal a tall bearded man in golden armour. It was not Goliath the Giant, sadly, but the insane, bloodythirsty Carthage.

"WHERE IS ITALY AND ROMANO?!" he bellowed.  
"Geez. Dude, you don't have to yell." America said, a burger in his hand, a can of cola in his other. The coke said, 'Share a coke with America' on the side.  
"WHO ARE YOU?! ARE YOU ITALY OR ROMANO?!"  
"Hell no. I'm America, the hero!!!" America said proudly.  
"WHAT IS A HAM ERICA?!!!" Carthage yelled.  
"A Ham Erica is your mom!" America shouted back.  
"I HAVE NO MOTHER! I AM THE GREAT ANCIENT CARTHAGE!!!"   
"Well fuck you." America said, taking a bite of his Big Mac.

" _Zdravstvuyte!_ Vhy you yell? Ve're close enough to hear you talk normally, da?" Russia said, holding his Magic Metal Pipe of Pain, which he had found hidden in Lithuania's underwear drawer. Yes, Russia often goes through people's stuff without asking. He would deal with the Baltic State later.  
"BECAUSE YELLING IS POWER!! ARE YOU ITALY OR ROMANO?!!!"   
" _Non,_ he is not. If you want to see power, look at my ass! Zuch pert cheeks, no?" France said.  
"I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR BUTT! I WANT ITALY AND ROMANO!!!"

"Well, good luck with that." a bored voice said.  
"WHO ARE YOU???!!!"  
"Liberius Acropolita Caelus, at your service." a blonde man said, leaning on the cooler. He took a sip of water. "You can call me Byzantine Empire, bitch."  
"You brought him arong?" Japan asked, looking at China.  
"No, but I asked him to cater tonight's dinner." China said, smiling.  
" _Otets?_ It is really you, da?" Russia asked.  
Byzantine Empire nodded. "'Sup."  
"I THOUGHT THE MIDGET SAID YOU WERE DEAD!!!" Carthage roared.  
 _'Midget?'_ Latvia mouthed.  
"Well, I'm as fucking alive as Romano and Italy are. Go suck some _testiculis_ , you armour-wearing bastard." Caelus said, looking rather annoyed. "You still haven't changed much since Roman Empire kicked your ass."  
"IS ROMAN EMPIRE STILL ALIVE?!!! DO NOT LIE TO ME!!!" the armoured city-state yelled, looking insane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Carthage:  
> 


	12. Byzantine kicks butt (and Roman Empire sits on his and does nothing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byzantine Empire (and entourage) tackle Carthage, while Roman Empire sits on his _culus_ and does nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: 
> 
> Culus: anus/butt
> 
> Papà: dad
> 
> Nonno Roma: Grandpa Rome
> 
> Iritus: angry
> 
> Frater: brother
> 
> Trādo: I surrender
> 
> Vati: father/dad
> 
> Mulus: mule
> 
> Mortuus: dead
> 
> Pater: father
> 
> Asinus: ass
> 
> Ja: yes
> 
> Punchus grammen: go punch the ground
> 
> Ti amo: my love
> 
> Mesa: table

_Previously on Hetalia...._

_"IS ROMAN EMPIRE STILL ALIVE?!!! DO NOT LIE TO ME!!!" the armoured city-state yelled, looking insane._

"Nah, he's dead. But he asks God a favour once in a while." a man said, walking through the door. Another man followed behind him. "Roman Empire, at your service!" he said, bowing in an over-exaggerated way.  
"And Western Roman Empire!" the other man added. "I also now owe God a big favour."  
_"Papà?!"_ Italy asked, his eyes wide. _"Nonno Roma?"_  
"Hello!" Western Empire and Roman Empire said smiling.  
"Carthage, what are you _iratus_ about this time? Are you sad that I conquered your small, non-existent pancake of a butt?" Rome simpered.  
"Pancakes...." Canada said softly.  
"DUH! YOU WILL PAY! I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU AND YOUR KIN!!!!" Carthage screamed.

"Well, I've been wanting to fucking fade for awhile, so slaughter away." Caelus said in a bored voice.  
"Uncle Byzantine? Why?" Romano asked.  
"I've been on this God-forsaken planet for over a millennium. With no empire, life has gotten dull. I just want to die. But, like a true son of Roman Empire, I am not going without a fight." Byzantine Empire said, a sword and shield appearing in his hands. He was left-handed, just like all the descendants of Roman Empire.

"He seems to have some logic after all! I'll fight alongside you till the end, _frater!_ " Western Empire said. His weapon appeared in his hand. It was a spear that had a white flag attached to it, the words _'Trādo - WRE'_ written on it.  
"He is definitely Italy's _vati_." Germany said, drawing his gun, just in case the armoured-bastard tried anything funny.  
"I'll fight!" Romano said suddenly, pulling out a basket of tomatoes. "I'll help you kick this zombie-bastard back to hell!"  
"Uh... M-me too!" Italy said, pulling out a white flag on a stick that read _'I surrender - Italy'_.  
Roman Empire reclined in an office chair, a bowl of potatoes in front of him, his feet propped up on the table. He took a bite out of one of the tubers. "Well, this should be interesting." he said, chewing thoughtfully.

"Grandpa Rome, why aren't you fighting?" Italy asked.  
"It think you guys should handle it. It seems like you've got everything under control." Roman Empire said, shrugging.  
"Lazy _mulus_." Byzantine Empire growled.  
"Well, he is _mortuus_... You should give him a break." Western Empire said.  
"You're dead too, you idiot!"  
"Well, if you don't want my help, then I think I'll join _Pater_ for some potatoes..." Western Empire said, sticking out his tongue. He started to walk towards Roman Empire.  
"You know I didn't mean it like that! Get your _asinus_ back here!" Caelus snapped.

"You know I wasn't going to leave you." Western Roman Empire said, sauntering over to Byzantine Empire before tripping over his sandals and falling face first onto the ground. "Ow."  
"Get up, Dad!" Romano said angrily.  
"Yeah.... I'm getting there." Western Empire said, getting to his feet. He picked up his spear. "So where were we?" he said, pretending like that never happened. "Oh.... Yes... CHARGE!!!" he bellowed, running towards Ancient Carthage. Byzantine and the others followed behind him.

Romano hurled tomatoes at the warrior's eyes, temporarily distracting him from where he was going. Italy waved his flag like crazy, begging the Carthaginian to spare his life.  
"I'm a virgin! I know someone in Carthage! Spare my life! I don't want to die! Please! Someone help me! I haven't climbed Mount Everest yet! I haven't gotten married! I don't know how to tie my shoes! I haven't eaten a bowl of pasta as my last meal! I don't want to die without pasta in my digestive tract!"  
" _Stultus._ I can't believe I'm related to him." Caelus said, rolling his eyes. He muttered something about inbreeding as he cut the shaft of Carthage's spear in half.

Russia joined in, hitting Carthage over the head with his metal pipe. The force of it left a dent in the ancient city's golden helmet.  
"Vell, this guy is weak compared to winter winds at my house, da?" he said, smiling.  
"You can do it!" Seychelles said, running into the conference room. She threw flowers at France before running out again.  
"Zat vas awkvard." Prussia said.  
"She's a bloody frog, what do you expect? Sir Winston Churchill?" England snapped.  
_"Ja."_

Romano soon ran out of tomatoes and ran to hide behind Spain. Italy's flag was torn and he hid behind Germany. Roman Empire took a bite from another potato, his eyes glued on the battle. "This is better than watching a gladiator fight!"  
America sat down beside the deceased empire with a bag of McDonald's fries. "Were gladiator fights cool?" the American asked, shoving his face full of the high-sodium, greasy food.  
"Very bloody... but when you see two men fight for their lives wearing only loincloths, it is truly inspiring!" Roman Empire said, his eyes shining in admiration.

Byzantine and Western Empire were still in the fight. Suddenly, Western Empire was thrown across the room and slammed his head into the wall. Russia had been thrown into a wall opposite, rendering him unconscious.  
Only Caelus remained, his sword and shield knocked out of his hands. The ex-empire was trapped between the wall and the psycho-soldier. Carthage advanced on the ex-nation, his sword drawn.

"FOOL! HOW COULD YOU HAVE THOUGHT TO DEFEAT ME?!!!" Carthage yelled.  
"Uh... Pride? Arrogance?" Byzantine said sarcastically. "I mean, with an IQ like that, anyone could outsmart you. I mean, how stupid are you? I'd say eleven out of ten on the stupidness specturm. You're so stupid, you can only make fucking uneducated guesses. 'Hey Carthage! What is one plus one?' 'UH.... BOOBIES!!!'" Byzantine Empire said in an uncanny Carthage imitation. Italy saw his left hand groping for Western Empire's fallen spear.  
"I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU WHERE YOU SIT!!!" Carthage said, charging at Caelus, his sword drawn.

Quick as lightning, Byzantine Empire picked up Western Empire's spear, holding it out in front of him. The two were stabbed at the same time. Carthage was skewered in the chest (because gold is too fucking malleable and gets punctured easily), and Byzantine in the stomach (because all he was wearing was a shirt. Their faces were a foot from each other, Carthage had a shocked expression on his.  
"W-what? H-how...?" Carthage wheezed.  
"Heh.... It looks like you got your ass kicked again, you flashy golden-bastard." Caelus smirked, his face lit up with triumph. "It seems you were always destined to lose against Roman Empire and his descendants. How does it feel to die again? You came back, didn't you? Cursed to live an immortal's life, just like me. You thought it was over, yes?"

"I w-will kill you....!" Carthage gasped, his eyes bulging.  
"Good luck with that. How many heartbeats are left in your body? Five? Ten? Fifty? How long will it take you to die?"  
As if to respond to that question, Carthage slowly became transparent until he was a ball of red light, which sunk into the earth, never to be seen again. The only traces of his existence was his armour, which was on the ground in a heap, and his sword, which was buried to the hilt in Byzantine's stomach.  
"See you in hell, bastard." Caelus said, pushing himself up into a sitting position.  
"Uncle Byzantine!" Italy said, rushing over to the dying empire.  
Netherlands snuck into the room, picked up the golden armour, and walked out, saying "Money is money."

"Italia...." Byzantine said, smiling. "Ah, and Romano too..." he coughed, blood dribbling down his chin. "I'm going to fade soon, we all know it... I've got to admit, I'm looking forward to leaving this fucking planet. I will have peace at last."  
"But what about your children? What about Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus?" Romano asked.  
"Russia will wake up and I'll be gone, just like it happened many years ago." Caelus said, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. "He will know what happened, and when he wakes up, give this to him..." Byzantine Empire took off the necklace he was wearing. It was a silver ornate cross with a golden snowflake embedded into it, hanging on a fine silver chain. He gave it to Romano to hold. "It was given to me by General Winter when I helped establish the Eastern Orthodox Church."

"Dude, your son is dying. Aren't you going to be with him?" America asked Roman Empire.  
"Nah! I'll see him in the world over. We can talk then. I want this to be Italy ad Romano's time with their uncle. He's broken the curse by knowing the meaning of true sacrifice." Rome said.  
"How did you find out how to break it? The curse, I mean." America said.  
"I cursed him, duh!" Roman Empire snorted, popping a potato into his mouth. "He was being a dick, willing to kill his brother to get the better half of the inheritance. He was power-hungry and selfish, unwilling to help his brother when the Visigoths came knocking. So I cursed him to come back after he died and live on the earth until he learned not to be an asshole. The fool's tried to kill himself multiple times before now. He kept coming back, again, and again, and again. It annoyed the crap out of me."  
"Dude, that is harsh...." America said, shovelling fries into his mouth, "but it makes perfect sense!"

"Poor Italy...." Germany said. "He just finds out zat his uncle is alive, only to have him taken avay from him."  
"Yeah.... Zat is razer depressing." France said.  
"I coudn't even begin to know how to sympathise with Italy and Romano. They must be so sad." England said.  
"Vait.... Are zey laughing?" Germany exclaimed.

It was true. Italy and Romano were laughing at an embarrassing story about their dad.  
"And then," Byzantine said, "the squirrel ran up Western Empire's leg, and into his loincloth. It started biting everything it could reach, and West couldn't sit for a week. Your Grandpa Rome kept looking at Western Empire funny, because your dad didn't tell him about the ball-biting squirrel incident."  
"Are you telling them about the squirrel?" Western Roman Empire said, stomping over to them. He rubbed the knot on his head.  
Italy looked up at his dad and started to laugh, Romano and Caelus soon joining in.  
"It wasn't even funny!" Western Empire said. "It hurt like the dickens!"  
"Oh, I get it. DICKens." Caelus said.  
 _Punchus grammen."_ Western Empire snapped.

Suddenly, Byzantine Empire stopped laughing and stared at his hands. His body was starting to fade.  
Italy and Romano took his hands in theirs.  
"It looks like it's time for me to go. Tell Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus that I love them, and that I'm always looking out for them. Tell them I'm sorry I couldn't be a better _pater_." Caelus said.  
"We will." Romano and Italy said sadly.  
"Farewell." their uncle said, closing his eyes. He exhaled and faded into a ball of golden light that flew out of the window and towards the sky. Ancient Carthage's sword fell to the ground with a clatter.

"Vell, zere passes ze last of ze great Roman empires." Austria said, his hand holding Switzerland's.  
Italy ran over to Germany and hid his face in the blonde's shirt.  
"Italy...." Germany said, wrapping his arms around the smaller man. "I'm so sorry...."  
"I-I miss him already...." Italy wailed, gripping the fabric of Germany's shirt tightly.  
"Italy... You're pulling my shirt off." Germany said uncomfortably.

"Do I get to comfort you, _ti amo?_ " Spain asked, holding out his arms.  
Romano looked on the verge of tears. "N-no.... I d-don't need your c-comfort, you f-flamenco-dancing bastard..."  
"Okay, well the offer is always on the _mesa_...." Spain said, shrugging.  
Romano ran into Spain's open arms, sobbing like a Sherlockian fangirl watching Benedict Cumberbatch jump of the roof of St. Barts for the first time.

"Well.... this is gay." Roman Empire said, stuffing a potato in his mouth. "And my number one fan said he wasn't into men, the liar."  
"Did someone say lyre?" Western Empire asked, pulling out a stringed u-shaped instrument.  
"Put that away, Gaius Octavian Septimus Pertinax Caesar." Roman Empire snapped. "Two people crying is enough."  
Suddenly, they too started to fade.   
Roman Empire grabbed as many potatoes as he could.

"Looks like our time is up." Western Empire said, smiling sadly.  
"We owe God a big favour." Roman Empire said. "I wonder what it will be this time. I hope it is not the unicorn stables." He shuddered.  
"Is Carthage going to come back?" Western Rome said, strumming a tune that sounded horribly like Taylor Swift on his lyre.  
"Nah. He's burning in hell." Roman Empire said.  
"What about Crete?"  
"Ah... He'll join our ranks eventually, once he stops acting like a dirty hobo."  
"So, never. You like cursing people, don't you?"  
"Yes."  
"What about Prussia?" Western Empire asked.  
"That wasn't my doing. I think he somehow lives in the hearts of many Germans. That's how he stays alive." Rome said.  
"So... he's like a heartworm. Got it. What about Atlantis? You cursed him, yes? Where is he?"  
"I haven't the slightest. Somewhere in the ocean, I reckon. Swimming around in his floaties." Rome said, popping a potato in his mouth. It was common knowledge between the Ancient Roman and Greek City-States that Atlantis couldn't swim, and that's why the island sank into the ocean.  
"I can't wait to see him again." Western Rome said blissfully.  
"Stop being so gay. The idiot's never going to learn to swim. I still could have gotten more potatoes, by the way..." Rome said.  
The two faded into two balls of golden light and flew out a broken window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byzantine's Pendant:  
> 


	13. America and Russia: Blueberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter in this story... Takes place seven months later on the seventh of January (Christmas day for Russia).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Amerika: America
> 
> Milaya: Pretty
> 
> Otets: dad/father

Lithuania sat by the warm fireplace in Russia's house, staring into the flames licking the charred logs. Latvia was hanging with Sealand, the two getting along like chocolate and peanut butter. Estonia was secluded in the corner, typing on his computer, no doubt adding to his blog. America was there too, having arrived totally uninvited. Belarus was talking animatedly to Ukraine. Russia was looking out the window sadly, his hand gripping the pendant around his neck. He always wore it, even when he slept. He sighed.

"Russia, what's up?" America asked, walking over to him.  
Russia forced a smile. "Ah, nothing. The stars are beautiful, da?" he said. "I see the Northern Lights sometimes from this vindow. I vas looking for them."  
"Cut the crap, dude. You miss him, right?" America asked, taking his hand. _'Damn, this dude's hand is like ice!'_ he thought.  
Russia blushed and looked down at the hand that was gripping his father's necklace. "I never got to speak vith him. Like true conversation." he said, smiling sadly. "And then he left vithout vord, just like vhen I vas young... and I never got to say goodbye..."  
"He faded, he couldn't have said goodbye, even if he wanted to. The East Wind takes us all in the end, man. Sometimes at the most unexpected of times. He loved you, and that's what mattered." America said, putting his hand on Russia's shoulder. "You don't have to always be happy, dude. You are allowed other feelings. Bottling them up isn't going to help anyone."

"America... I-" Russia began, tears leaking out of his eyes.  
America shushed him and drew him close, pressing his lips onto the other nation's. He closed his eyes, savouring the feeling of the colder nation's lips on his own.  
Russia felt his heart melting like Ice. Warmth shot out of his heart, travelling to the tips of his toes and fingers. He felt true happiness, something he hadn't felt since Byzantine Empire had momentarily reappeared back into his life. Tears rolled down his pale cheeks as he grabbed America's dirty-blonde hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss.  
The American moaned, his tongue begging for entrance into the other's mouth.  
Russia happily obliged.

It took a few minutes for Latvia to realise what was going on.  
"Sealand!" he whispered.  
"Why are we talking in hushed voices? Are we playing telephone? I'll start! Sealand is the coolest country ever!" the small not-actually-a-country whispered back.  
"No. Look at Russia and America!" Latvia said.  
Sealand's eyes widened, and his big eyebrows were raised far past his hairline. "Bloody hell! Look at the two of them go! I didn't know Russia was a sod!" he said slightly louder than he may have wanted.

"Russia is a vhat?" Lithuania hissed.  
Latvia tilted his head to the two superpowers, who looked like they were eating each other's faces.  
"[Insert Lithuanian word for 'What the hell?!!]?!! I didn't know Russia liked guys! To be honest, I didn't know he liked anyone! And those two?! I thought they hated the crap out of each other! Remember the Cold Var?"  
"It vas so scary to be around Russia at that time... He vent through a crazy phase over America. I was cleaning up our old house one day, remember the Soviet Union? Vell, anyvays, I vent into Ivan's room, and there vere a bunch of pictures of America in there! They vere all defaced, either vith graffiti, or something vorse, like knife slashes and bullet holes!" Ukraine said tearfully, leaning into their conversation. Her breasts made a loud _boing_ as she moved closer.  
"Brother Russia vas being very strange. He yelled at me vhen I asked him to marry me, and told me he vas busy. He didn't ever yell at me before the Cold Var. General Vinter vas being very harsh to us. Usually, Brother vould protect us, but Russia ignored our suffering. He vas too busy obsessing over America vhile ve grew hungry." Belarus said. "Russia became colder than ice... Sometimes, I vould see the shadow of his 2-P form on his face."  
There was a collected shudder as they digested this.

"But the two of them together, are you bloody kidding me?" Sealand said, his arm around Latvia. "I don't know what America sees in that bloke. He's terrifying! The way he's always happy.... And wanting everyone to be 'one' with him..."  
"Ve vere one vith him for avhile." Lithuania said. "He vas okay to be around at first."  
Suddenly, there was an "AW SHIT!!!" from the corner. Even Russia and America stopped their make-out session to look up.  
Estonia was typing on his computer furiously. "Someone hacked into my blog again! Now, instead of a cute Russia holding the vorld, it's an incestuous picture of Romano and Italy!"  
"Dude, that's just Kazakhstan hacking into your computer." America said, his hand holding Russia's.  
"No it isn't!" Kazakhstan said frantically, walking out of the room quickly, he Macbook tucked under her arm.  
"I didn't even see here there." Sealand said thoughtfully.

"So, where was I? Oh yes... i remember." America said, licking his lips. He led Russia to the cold country's bedroom and laid him on the bed.  
" _A-Amerika...._ " Russia said softly, his face flushed.  
"Shhh...." America said, swooping down to place a chaste kiss on the other nation's lips.  
He started to undo the colder nation's coat, revealing a sort of tunic underneath. He pushed the tunic up, revealing the communist nation's muscular chest and pants, which had a very distinctive tent forming at the groin.  
He ran his hands over Russia's bondy, his fingers sliding delicately over the other's nipples, which hardened to the touch.  
"Alfred..." Russia moaned softly.  
"Yes?" America asked.  
"I like this. It feel very good." Russia said, his limbs splayed on the mattress.  
"That's good to hear, Ivan." America said, grinning to himself.

America's fingers carefully undid Russia's trousers, revealing a pair of black boxer shorts. He pulled Russia's pants completely off and threw them somewhere by the chest of drawers.  
"You don't have to do this... You could just be one vith Russia..." Russia said, hiding his blushing face in his hands.  
"No... because I want to become your one and only." America said said, fiddling with the buckle o his own jeans. He pulled out his aching cock and hissed, suddenly aware of how cold it was in Russia's house. He fiddled with the waistband of Russia's underwear before gently pulling them off and tossing them next to the cold nation's bookshelf.  
Russia's member stood up proudly in the cool air, flushed and steadily dripping with pre-cum.  
"Dude! Your dick is huge!" America said, stroking it with his hand. He rubbed the head with his thumb.  
"Ngh! _Amerika..._ " Russia gasped. He bit the bottom of his lip, trying not to make any noise that might alert the other countries about what they were up to.

America pumped the other country's member in his hand, bending over to messily kiss Russia on the lips. Russia's eyes were almost black with lust. He pulled America in for another kiss, savouring the taste of America, which tasted, surprisingly, not like burgers. America's lips tasted like blueberries, something Russia had only tasted once in his life.

_'Vhere ve going, Father?' Young Russia asked, walking alongside Byzantine Empire. The two were holding hands as they trekked through the snow and white desolate landscape. Russia was wearing a red scarf that was knitted by Volga, his mother. He stood out against the stark white landscape like a tomato on snow._  
_'I wanted to show you something I found. I think you'll find them appealing.' Byzantine Empire said smiling._  
_'Vhy you not bring Belarus and Ukraine?' Russia asked._  
_'I don't think they'll find it very interesting. Plus, they're learning to knit at the moment.' Caelus said._  
_'So, vhat is it?'_  
_'It's just around the corner. See that clump of bushes over there? Those are Winter Blueberries.' Byzantine Empire said, pointing to the foliage in front of them._  
_Russia ran forward. 'Milaya! So many! They're beautiful!' he said, his eyes shining._  
_'I thought you'd like them. An the good part is' General Winter cannot lay a finger on them. They are resilient to his touch, just like you are. Here....' Russia's father said, picking a few. He put them into Russia's small hand. 'You can eat them. They make a really nice treat. Go on, try it.'_  
_Russia sniffed them delicately, then shoved them in his mouth. The taste was so wonderful, so much flavour packed into such small berries. 'These are good!' he said happily. 'I like these! Vhenever I eat these, I vill remember you!'_  
_'Thank you, Russia. That means a lot to me.' Byzantine said, giving his son a hug. 'How about we pick some so Mother Volga can make us a nice pie?'_  
_'That sound great!' Russia said, and he filled his pockets with as many blueberries as they could hold.  
_ _The next day, they woke up to find Byzantine gone, and Russia avoided all blueberries and never visited the Winter Blueberry bushes again. Even when he and his sisters would go hungry and were tormented by General Winter, they still wouldn't go near them, because it reminded them too much of their father. Volga sank back into her river out of grief, never to rise to the surface again. The bushes still thrived, however, defying General Winter as a lasting tribute to the last of the great Roman Empires._

"Hey, dude, are you okay?" America asked, looking at Russia.  
"Da, I'm okay." Russia said, wiping a tear from his eyes.  
"Dude, you're crying. Am I really that bad at sex? I thought I was pretty good in bed." America said.  
"You just reminded me of someone.... You know who." Russia said.  
"Wait... you mean you fucked Lord Voldemort? Man, I know Russians are weird and all, but really..."  
"It vas your kiss. It taste like Vinter Blueberries.... I ate Vinter Blueberries vith my otets the day before he first disappeared from my life."  
"Oh... Well, did you like them? Because I could kiss you again if you really wanted t-" America began.  
Russia cut him off by grabbing the American's hair and kissing him, his tongue tasting every bit of America's mouth that he could find. America moaned into the kiss.

Finally, Russia pulled away, breathless. "Alfred, I vant you to fuck me." he said, taking deep breaths. "I vant you inside me."  
"It would be my pleasure." America said. He chuckled at his own joke. "Do you have any lube?"  
"Uh... In drawer of nightstand." Russia said.  
America reached over to the small pine-wood table and opened the drawer. An almost empty bottle of lube was in there.  
"Dude, do you have sex often? This bottle of lube was bought pretty recently judging by the expiration date." America said, staring at the small date on the bottom of the container.  
"N-no... I just... um... you know..." Russia said uncomfortably.  
"I think I understand." America said. He dolloped some on two fingers and rubbed the two with his thumb. He slowly stuck one finger inside the colder nation's entrance, causing Russia to exhale slowly.  
Russia was laying on his back, looking at the ceiling, his breathing quite even. He was an expert at keeping his composure, but how long would that last?  
America stuck another finger in, scissoring his fingers to open up Russia wider. Russia's breathing hitched slightly, before returning to normal.  
America put a third finger inside him, opening up the larger country even more, fucking him with his fingers. Russia's breathing became slightly uneven, and his face was even more flushed than before.  
America withdrew his fingers. _'So he's going to play that way, is he? Keeping his cool?'_ America thought to himself. _'Two can play at that game.'_ He smirked and bent over, spreading Russia's tight cheeks apart with to hands, his face level with Russia's entrance.

"America, vhat are you doing?" Russia asked, trying to see what the other country was doing. He let out a gasp, his back arching to a new sensation. He fell back on the sheets with a _WUMPH!_  
America swirled his tongue on the tight ring of muscle, lapping at it with a ferocity that was rival to Canada's pancake habits.  
"Ngh! _Amerika!_ " Russia groaned, his hands clutching his sheets.  
America stuck his tongue into Russia's anus, flicking it in and out, fucking the other nation with his tongue.  
"America... stop!" Russia gasped, his face as bright as the Red Army.  
America stopped and looked up. "You're asking me to stop, but you're pushing your ass into my face. That's not how it works, Ivan." America said grinning.  
"J-just fuck me.... Please... I can't stand it anymore...." Russia said, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was biting his knuckle so hard, he was drawing blood.

"My pleasure." America said. He squeezed a bit of lube in his hand and slicked up his cock. He positioned himself at Russia's entrance, the tip of his penis pressing slightly into Russia's anus, but stopped suddenly. "You know, now that I think of it..... The people at Chick-Fil-A are always supposed to say 'my pleasure,' but one time I was at this Chick-Fil-A in Seattle, and you know Seattle. It's always raining there and the weather is SHIIIIIT, and I went through the drive-thru. The line was really long, so to lessen the wait, the manager (who's name was Chuck) made some of the workers go outside into the rain to deliver the food to the waiting cars. Like a carhop, ya know? So there I was, in my Ford Focus, waiting for my chicken nuggets, iced lemonade, and waffle fries, when this three-legged, fat, asexual hermaphrodite with only one nostril and a mullet comes up to the car. He looks pretty pissed and shoves the bag with my food into my hand and takes my wallet. Well, I didn't care that he took my wallet, because I already had my money out to pay for my order, but the fact was that he forgot to say 'my pleasure.' So I drove after that rude, three-legged, fat, asexual hermaphrodite with a mullet and one nostril and honked at him, telling him that he forgot, and the son of a bitch turns around and bellows something at me in Klingon before diving into a dumpster and making spaceship noises. He then proceeded to throw twenty-five starving, Amish, schizophrenic, machine-gun wielding, rabid squirrels at my car. The starving, Amish, schizophrenic, machine-gun wielding, rabid squirrels then ripped my car apart, searching for Zelda and the Triforce, but a Jedi then swooped in to-"  
"JUST GET ON VITH IT!!!" Russia bellowed.  
"Fine, dude, you don't have to yell." America said. He pushed himself into Russia's entrance, hissing as he got used to the dramatic temperature change. Russia clenched around America's member, trying to adjust to the feeling. His eyes were shut in concentration as he tried to relax. He took a deep breath and opened up around him.  
America pushed himself all the way in, relishing in Russia's warmth. "You okay? Tell me when to move."

Russia took a deep breath. "I ready."  
America started to move, thrusting into Russia slowly. "Fuck! Russia, you feel so good." America said, grabbing the bigger country's erect member. He stroked Russia's cock delicately, as if it was some sort of baby animal (preferably a bunny). Russia squirmed in the bed, the sensation of America's thrusting almost too much for him. "America... It feel so good... Faster.... Please..." Russia said breathlessly.  
America obliged, pumping Russia's member with earnest. He started to thrust into Russia with most force, the bed starting to creak from their movements.  
Russia put his hands on the headboard to steady himself, his breath coming out in little gasps. Suddenly, he cursed loudly as America found his sweet spot. America seemed to realise that too, and started to hit the spot over and over again, causing elicit moans to escape the other " _Amerika..._ I think I'm going to-" Russia began, writhing underneath the American.  
"Not yet..." America said, gritting his teeth as he thrusted harder into Russia. He started to move faster, his thrusting more erratic and uneven as he approached his orgasm.  
"America-"  
"Not yet..." America said, biting down on his bottom lip. He leaned in and gave Russia another kiss, and the two came at the same time. America came with a cry and fell on top of Russia, who had hit his climax while looking like he was merely interested in a new flower or something of that sort. "Russia, you okay? Sorry for falling on you like that..." America mumbled into Russia's pectoral muscles.  
"It okay. Vhen ve clean up, I vant to show you something." Russia said

The two walked out of the front door of Russia's large house and into the snowy forest behind it.  
"Dude, where are we going?" America asked, looking around. "It's cold out here...." He followed Russia deeper into the forest. The moon's light shined on the snow, making it look like the ground was glowing. Icicles hung from the trees, sparkling in the moonlight.  
"Just little farther, if I remember correctly." Russia said, grabbing America's hand as he quickly walked through the forest. Russia walked on the top layer of the snow as if he were light as a feather, while America slowly trudged behind, ankle deep in the frozen stuff.  
Looking around at the forest, America half-expected to run into a talking snowman that liked warm hugs.  
"Russia, it is so damn cold out here. Can I go back for another jacket or something?" America asked a few minutes later.  
Russia stopped and turned to face America, his expression almost unreadable as he looked at the American. After a moment, he smiled and took off his scarf, wrapping it around America's neck. He kissed America on the cheek. "Just little farther." he repeated, turning around.  
America shambled after him, Russia's scarf keeping him warm. He stared at the back of Russia's neck, which was scarred in some places. There was a particular spot on the side of his neck, which looked strangely like a cross. A small cross. Had the Teutonic Knights given him that? He had heard that when Prussia was younger, he had invaded Russia, but he didn't know to what extent.  
"Ve here." Russia said, stopping suddenly. America nearly crashed into the other nation.  
"What did you want to show me?" America asked.  
Russia bent over a clump of bushes and turned around after a moment. There was something in his hands.  
"Dude, what are you holding?" America asked.  
Russia opened his hands, a few blue coloured berries resting in his palms. "These are Vinter Blueberries. They are immune to the cold, and like me, General Vinter cannot touch them. My father brought me here vhen I vas really young.... The last day before he left. I've never been back until now, but I vanted to share then vith you."  
"Russia..." America said softly, looking at the other nation in awe. "Dude, these bushes must be really important to you... Why would you share them with me?"  
"You know, I have not the slightest." Russia said. "I figure it out eventually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me till the very end. I'm thinking of making a Hetalia story that is placed waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back in the past. Like WAY back. Like Roman Empire times. Byzantine and Western Rome (Liberius and Gaius) are kids and there are other countries/city-states like Athens, Corinth, Sparta, etc. Tell me what you think!


End file.
